


Paris, 1881.

by Peytpulley



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber RPF
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Domestic Violence, F/M, Historical Fantasy, Musicals, Operas, Other, Romance, War, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 107,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peytpulley/pseuds/Peytpulley
Summary: A connection had formed between man and woman. Repentance and Healing of a broken being. Love or Sacrifice? For ten years, they had forgotten. After ten years, they came back. To love, to sing and to survive.Based on the Phantom of the Opera 25th anniversary performace with Ramin Karimloo and Sierra Boggess as the Phantom and Christine Daae. This story may include a little bit of fantasy and historical inaccuracy.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 37
Kudos: 40





	1. Paris, 1881

**Paris, 1881.**

a story by Faith Beltran Marcelo

 **Summary -** A connection had formed between man and woman. Repentance and Healing of a broken being. Love or Sacrifice? For ten years, they had forgotten. After ten years, they came back. To love, to sing and to survive. Based on the Phantom of the Opera 25th anniversary performace with Ramin Karimloo and Sierra Boggess as the Phantom and Christine Daae. This story may include a little bit of fantasy and historical inaccuracy. 

**Notes -** The story will occur after the events of Don Juan Triumphant and the climax of the Final Lair scene. This is all based on the Phantom of the Opera 25th anniversary performance with Ramin Karimloo as the Phantom, Sierra Boggess as Christine Daae and Hadley Fraser as the Vicomte De Chagny. The story will also be based on slight Leroux/Kay versions of the Phantom of the Opera. To remind you, some scenes here are historically inspired and fantasy as well. This will include fictional occurences and I'll do my best to make it accurately "french". The story will also include song verses that are both existential and non-existential. I wanted it to be like a musical story rather than proceeding with purely dialogues. So anyways, hope you enjoy my phanfiction and like/comment if you like. Thank you so much and enjoy the read. 

**Disclaimer -** I do not own the Phantom of The Opera and neither its musical adaptation. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and songs are the property of their respective owners. No profit is being made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

 **Warning -** As I've said, I will try my best to make it historically accurate to the 19th century French setting although the story may contain several fantasy occurences similar to plots like Game of Thrones or any fictional stories. Also, some characters may experience "out of character" issues so bear with me. Lastly, Love Never Dies will not happen here totally although I adapted some scenes from it to make the story atleast musically accurate. 

**Characters**

Erik, The Phantom of the Opera 

Christine Daae 

The Vicomte, Raoul De Chagny

The Persian, Nadir Khan

Madame Antoinette Giry

Meg Giry

The Comte, Philippe De Chagny

Richard Firmin and Giles Andre

Gustave De Chagny/Love Never Dies

Maximillian Laurent/OC

Samuel Carre/OC

Marius and Charles Leroy/OC

Elena Van Harriette/OC

Parts that are written in _italics_ are flashbacks and _**bold italics**_ for characters singing. Finally, please review, comment, follow or favorite if you like. I would love to hear all your opinions so that I can improve my writing anytime soon. Although I would discourage negative criticisms that involves verbal violence, word curses or any sort that may hurt someone's feelings. Keep the love and enjoy the story! 

* * *

**Paris, 1881**

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" _ **Angel of Music, you deceived me! I gave my mind blindly.** " _sang Christine Daae as she knelt down beside her angel of music. She felt the heaviness of her heart as the Phantom breathingly muttered _blindly_ and stared at her with both anger and sadness.

"You try my patience." said the Phantom, almost desperate. He stood as he continued to stare at Christine's green eyes. "Make your choice." He dropped the wedding veil on her hands and gazed upon another part of the walls of the lair.

Christine almost felt the hurt that suddenly tried to snap the connection between her and the Phantom. She did not want to end the connection of souls for she thought, for a long time before this happened, that she could not live without the music that he used to comfort her.

But now was a fate that she must decide. _**"Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?"**_ she stood and walked slowly towards his back. _**"God give me courage to show you, you are not alone."**_ she pulled his shoulder to face her. As the music within them started to ascend, she finally pulled him into a kiss. His first kiss, full of compassion and assurance overwhelmed him. She embraced him tightly enough for his arms to tremble violently. With much power within her body, she kissed him again much longer than the first.

Is this a bargain? _No, not even the slightest._

He was the first to pull back away from her soft, tender lips. The Phantom felt nothing but the empathy and compassion that she passed onto him as if there is a bridge that had connected between them. She was the embodiment of innocence and kindness that he desperately tried to scrape from the dirt of the world. Because of this, he finally understood.

He enclosed his hands with Christine's and slowly moved his way to the candles supporting his organ. He grabbed the only lit candle from its collection and glanced toward the Vicomte.

The Vicomte de Chagny was in a more terrible situation than he ever was. A red punjab lasso, attached around his neck and was far away from Christine's reach. He witnessed the scene that embarked in front of his eyes. He could not fathom the fact that Christine, the love of his life, touched her lips against with a deformed one, twice. He could not do anything but feel the heavy weight that made his head lower from the sight as if he felt a wire between him and Christine snapped.

The Phantom kept on glancing between Christine and the Vicomte as he approached to where the lasso hanged. He looked at Christine one last time before he angrily snapped the end of the lasso with the lit candle. The minute the Vicomte was released, he grabbed his arm and faced him. "Take her! Forget me! Forget all of this!" said the Phantom as he pushed him towards Christine.

Christine felt herself unable to move anymore until the Vicomte shook her awake. "Take the boat! Swear to me never to tell!" yelled the Phantom, while he hurriedly removed his tailcoat from his shoulders. Christine tried to pull the Vicomte away from him as if he wanted to threaten the Phantom once more. The last thing Christine heard before escaping the lair was the Phantom's heartwretching scream.

She felt nothing but pain after his voice had faded. "Raoul, please stop!" said Christine as she tried to pull her hands away from his. Before Raoul could react, she had already ran straight back to the lair. Everything was silent except the Phantom's weak singing, mimicking the masquerade tune coming from the music box.

He stared back at her shyly as he slowly made his way infront of her, clutched hands on his waistcoat. She held his onyx ring in front of him, returning it back. _**"Christine... I love you."**_

She could not control the pain in her chest anymore as she cried silently while she kissed his moisted hands. She slid the ring in his hands while her tears bathed his trembling fingers. She glanced at him and slowly walked her way back to the boat. She looked at him with hesitance. She just could not leave him there, all alone. She did not want to. But she had to. _I have to go._

His sincere nod of acceptance assured her that she was now free, free from his prison and his voice. _I know. It's alright._

 _ **"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime."** _sang Christine weakly, made sure her message was understood by the man who possessed the other half of her soul. Her connection with him, soul to soul. _**"Say the word and I will follow you."**_ she stared to the other man who sang their song, with an arm reached through hers. She did not want this to break but the choice that the Phantom had already provided her had shaped her fate. She clutched to Raoul's fingers and continued to exit his lair. The song had already faded. But the rope was still intact, hoped for its last stitch not to snap further yet.

 **" _I_** _ **t's over now, the music of the night."**_ sang the Phantom wholeheartedly and threw the wedding veil to his feet. He was now free. He was saved. He was now awake and he never felt more alive.

The foreign yells and shouts of the mob approached loudly that brought him to his senses. He hurriedly sat on his trap chair and covered himself with the shadow.

* * *

Meg Giry was the first person to step on the Phantom's lair with the police and the mob on her tail. She found no one around the space, not even Christine and the Vicomte. She saw a shadow beside the organ and hurriedly removed its covering. A pure white porcelain mask was set on the chair captivated her eyes. She grabbed it delicately and scanned it with innocent curiosity. "His." muttered she.

"No one is here!" yelled by a thug as he recklessly hit and destroyed all of the lair's possessions. Meg was startled with the sudden violence and hurriedly walked to the police's side, with the mask hidden within her bodice. Completely horrified with the scene that has occured, she backed away from the lair and ran back above to the opera house. She found her mother immediately and encouraged her to go home for the night.

Madame Giry could not do anything but stare at her cold tea. She sat all night, wondered about the scene that had happened in the opera house a while ago. The devil's face, Piangi's end, Christine's screams and the Vicomte's determination. _**"What have I done? O God the troubles of my heart."**_ sang the Madame as she made her way to her chambers to sleep for a brief night. _**"Curiosity kills the cat, they said. Yet it pulls me to the shine of his clothing."**_ On the other side of the wall, Meg Giry stared at the Phantom's mask with pure uncertainty. She did not tell her mother about the mask yet or she thought Hell will break loose.

" _ **Who am I? Who are we? How did we end up on top of the same rope?"**_ sang together with troubled hearts, they slowly dipped their heads on their pillows, hoped that everything will be forgotten by the next morning.

* * *

The Persian held his newspaper with annoyance as he read the front page: "The Opera Ghost Kidnapped Opera Populaire's Soprano." He still could not fathom the scene that had occured last night at the opera house. He knew because he was audience.

He sipped the last remaining liquid of his tea and made his way to the kitchen to distract himself. He wiped the last of his utensils and told his maid to cook for today's meal. "Until when will he stay, Monsieur Khan?" muttered the young servant hesistantly while her eyes stared at the empty slab that separated the ground and the top floor. "I am not sure, Lizzie. But let the poor man alone for a little while." Nadir Khan was sure that the police would not question him about the Phantom's whereabouts since he was only known as one of the small season ticket holders of the opera house. But he could not be sure anyway. He knew something was wrong from the beginning of the song the soprano had sung. It was intimate and indeed, scandalous as he perceived it. But the tension was breathtaking. He heard the voice and recognized it almost a thousand times. Even with a black cloak that covered all of his being, he knew that the Phantom of the Opera was there.

But all hell broke loose when the poor maiden snatched the Phantom's mask from his face. Countless screams were heard but the throaty scream of agony by the unmasked man was all that passed within the Persian's ears. The same scream he had once heard from his time in Persia. This was trouble and that made Nadir immediately flee to the exit of the opera house. He could not bear the pain that had shown from the man's being. Even though he had struggled from the crowd's shouts and bodies, he managed to blend with the people outside of the Opera Populaire and took a cab straight to his inn.

He was careful not to show any clues to his servants of what had occured within the walls of the opera house. He sat dumbfounded for hours of the night until he heard two weak knocks from his window glass. He thought it was just a rustle from a tree branch until it knocked twice again, louder this time. He immediately grabbed the pistol that resided above his study desk and moved his way to the back door. "Who is there?" said the Persian with his right ear tight to the door. Who would be knocking this late?

"Please help me." It was a weak voice but Nadir immediately recognized the stranger's voice. It was throaty as if he shouted wholeheartedly to the whole world. He hid the pistol to his back and slowly opened the door to take a look at the poor man's face.

Without the porcelain mask which once covered half of his face, he was a mess. Mixed with sweat and unending tears from his eyes, the Phantom's deformity was more emphasized and a scratch wound formed atop his left brow. He wore a black messy cloak to hide his face, only wore his shirtsleeves with his chest exposed and black pants and shoes covered in mud. "I'll pay you when it is the right time." said the Phantom weakly as the Persian guided him to his chair near the fireplace. His body shook the entire night and stared at Nadir's serious eyes with hesitance and coldness.

Nadir knew it was not just the cold, dull weather that bothered the Phantom's entire being but heartbreak did most of the majority of it. _**"Pitiful creature of darkness, what has happened within you?"**_ sang the Persian while he stared at his empty clear window. The Phantom could not bear to reply back to him. He could not hear a single music anymore ever since he escaped from the lair.

The Persian grew tired of the silence within his home and slowly sat on the chair opposite to the Phantom's. He tapped the armrest for a minute while he stared at the trembling black figure in front of him. Finally, he had stopped shaking and the Persian opened his mouth.

"Start talking."


	2. It's Over Now

**It's Over Now**

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"I let her go." said the Phantom as he sipped the remaining of his tea and stared at Nadir, told him with his eyes that his story was finished, He could not betray Nadir's trust from him but he understood the moment when he snapped Joseph Buquet's neck that he broke his promise, out of love. "I could not hurt her anymore, Nadir. If I did, It would break both of our hearts." said the Phantom and fresh tears started to shed from his eyes once again.

"Love can destroy a thousand lives in just a minute. But it either can save them." said the Persian as he stood from his seat and slowly paced around the room. The Phantom wondered what Nadir said. His sight followed the Persian's movements. "What do you mean?" asked the Phantom.

"Is it still the right time to call you _Erik?"_ Nadir ignored the Phantom's question first and stared back at him. It had been almost ten years ever since anyone called him by his first and single name. No matter how he loathed the name, it still defined the majority of his life aside his current moniker. "Fine." muttered Erik.

"Good. To answer your question, Love may had left you heartbroken. It also saved you from your emotional destruction and of course, saved Mademoiselle Daae and her Vicomte." Nadir almost wanted to hit himself for muttering _her Vicomte_ in front of Erik and it surely put them both into unease. Still, Erik had little strength anymore to protest. "I did not like her with the fop yet I did not like her with me too." said Erik as he rubbed the wounded part of his brow.

Nadir did not like him neglecting his being therefore, he stopped Erik from further infecting himself. He fetch his medicine kit from his bedroom and properly helped Erik with his scratches. "Dear Allah, Erik. Did a dog tried to eat you alive?" jokingly remarked the Persian as he finished cleaning the slight bloodied mess from his hands. "I entered dangerous passages to get here with a mob almost on my tail. So you could say that." Erik tried to smile willingly although there is no joy within his eyes anymore. Nadir sighed at the sight of his old acquaintance. Erik is a difficult and a complicated man, craving only for love and acceptance in the eyes of the people around him. Even his mother loathed him just because he was born half of a human face. He kept himself hidden among his home of darkness such as the lair beneath the opera house for most of his life.

The only kind soul who had accepted him pure-heartedly is none other than the young soprano herself, Christine Daae. The young lady who had captured his heart and kissed him twice. Twice! The shame of a face against her angelic, smooth one. Erik had already accepted the fact that if one had tried to kiss him, one will surely perish. But no, Christine did not die. Christine had saved him from his doom. He could not thank her enough. And he loved her very much.

"Will I be able to find peace?" muttered Erik, stared again at Nadir, hoping for a good answer. "You will in due time, Erik. I will let you stay here as long as you like so long as no authority will question me for what happened. Try your best to move on." But Nadir knew that moving on will not be easy for Erik, for he has a heart with thorns. He did not have a definite answer to provide for his friend. Christine is his first and last love of his life. She had ripped the thorns from his heart but left it unprotected. To Nadir's astonishment, Erik was quite polite the entire night and finally asked to be left alone upstairs in his room to think. Erik was silent the whole time so the servants were not that threatened with his presence.

Erik stared quietly at the ceiling of his room, unable to think properly anymore. He spent the whole night laid on top of his bed and stared at nothing that will provide him some answers. " _ **So much for being an angel of music, If I can't hear her voice anymore."**_ sang the lone Phantom as he thought of the first thing that entered his mind. Her weeping face and her soft lips. Erik knew that, from the beginning he held Christine's wrist tight and pulled her to his home, it was his fault that they both suffered painfully that night. Just because he was selfish and unstable. But he loved her truly. For he was scared of losing her.

" _Give yourself some fresh air and heal yourself."_ he remembered what Nadir said before he retired. For years before Christine, he had refreshed himself and started a new life beneath the Opera Populaire. From the horrible memories he had suffered from Persia, it was not easy to forget. However, ever since he heard a beautiful voice from above, he thought he had gone to heaven. Now the same voice could no longer be heard within his ears. Why is it when I have finally tried to commit myself to someone, it would just become some bad memory to forget at the end? Why do I have to forget everything, even the happiest ones? The world answered for him. Because he is a monster. A freak of nature.

 _ **"**_ _ **Damn hope, Damn love."**_ He could not forgive the world but he could forgive Christine for he loved her. His decisions brought him to the depths of hell. His bad choices. When he could finally make one kind choice, it was to let Christine go. Let her go to a life full of luxury rather than a life filled by the darkness. _**"For you Christine, I shall carry the world beneath my shoulders."**_ sang Erik for the last time before he closed his eyes and succumbed himself to dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Maman, where do you think is the Phantom of the Opera now?" asked Meg Giry to her mother while they ate their breakfast at a cafe near the opera house. The managers of the Opera Populaire asked Madame Giry to assist them on fixing the mess that had occurred last night. To her dismay, she and her daughter had to wake up at five in the morning. They decided to finish their breakfast at a nearby cafe with less customers settled in. "Hush Meg! This discussion is not good to talk about in this place." said Madame Giry discreetly to her daughter who sat opposite her. This is not the first time her Meg asked a question about the Opera Ghost this morning. Too many unnecessary questions from her made her quite suspicious. "What is the matter, dear? Why are you so suddenly curious of the Opera Ghost?" asked Madame Giry back.

Meg Giry knew that her mother would eventually ask her about the sudden questions. She could not sleep last night, for she still felt the curse that resided around the porcelain mask. She decided to bring the mask along with her while she and her mother walked to the opera house. As they both entered the theater, police and other staff members paced around and Meg Giry had to stand aside in order to escape from the chaos. Meg, once again, stood beside her mother while she talked with the managers: Monsieurs Richard Firmin and Giles Andre.

 _ **"Lotsa money gone! Full house refunded! We're ruined, Andre! Ruined!"**_ sang Monsieur Firmin as he paced around their office. Monsieur Andre tried to calm his nerves and asked Madame Giry where Christine Daae currently reside. _**"The Vicomte De Chagny escorted her to his residence. He said she is much safer by his side."**_ sang Madame Giry back. According to Madame Giry, the Vicomte did not want Christine near the opera house until he says so. He could not trust anyone near that place anymore.

 _ **"Well lucky her! As for us, they left us for scraps!"**_ sang the Managers before they send the Girys out of their office. Madame Giry went straight to the ballet dormitories to check on her girls while Meg Giry insisted she helped the other staff members on removing the props from the stage. In truth, she wanted to visit a certain dressing room.

* * *

Nadir was reading a book when Erik went downstairs to the parlor. Still dressed with the same clothing, he looked worse than last night. He knew he had not slept well. "I will go back to the opera house." said the Phantom weakly as he rubbed his eyes from sleep. Nadir wanted to scold the poor man but doubted there is any fighting spirit left from him anymore. "You can't possibly! What if someone caught you?" asked Nadir as he paced in front of Erik. The Phantom had no strength to argue yet he growled. "I left a few francs in the drawers upstairs, I would not want to abuse your kindness." Nadir, still with a humbled heart, at least provided Erik some bread to eat on his way and gave him one small advice. "Take care of yourself, Erik. Do not torture yourself further anymore." With that, the Phantom ran out of the backdoor. 

Nadir wanted to hit him with his pistol. First, for breaking his promise and last, for neglecting himself. He grew quite fond of Erik from the moment he saw him playing with Reza. That is, maybe, the first thing he thought when he let him go. But there is no doubt at all that Erik would dirty his hands again with blood. And yes, he did. Two innocents, out of love and obsession. So much for taking notes!

* * *

Meg Giry stood still in front of the mirror of the Prima Donna dressing room. Just a few months ago, she heard strange noises from the area where this mirror resided. And she also thought that there was a figure reflected from the mirror. She thought this is an another passage back to the lair. She could not go back to the other passage used by the mob for God knows she will be found out. She began to clutch for a way between the corners of the mirror until she heard a click. She felt the slight movement and pushed the entire thing sideways. She was hesitant but the darkness of the tunnel tried to pull her inside.

Her slight shouts made way around the tunnels when she was passed by rats and other insects lurking around. It was filthy yet Little Giry walked slowly through until she was in front of a lake. There is no way she could cross without a boat. The lake was surrounded by gargoyles and other pillars to protect the water from leaking above the solid ground. Although the lake is not that deep, Meg Giry would surely catch a cold if she crossed. "Damn. I'm here anyway." said Meg as she swam her way through the lake and held support from the concrete pillars surrounding the lake.

* * *

Erik was quite distraught when he found most of his possessions unusable and destroyed as if a great storm caught all of it. His organ was torn into half and the keys had fell off, his music sheets wet and burned and his books had been ripped apart one by one. Nothing salvageable except the music box. Erik just sat on the floor and observed the place once more. The mob wrecked his home as if some creature had cursed the place. Some of his clothing and accessories were either burned or stolen. the wedding veil that he dropped once on his feet are now torn into shreds. Now Erik held nothing but his ring. Her sign of goodbye. Did she even forgave him? Or just simply took pity of him and forgotten him? These questions flew into Erik's mind but much to his numbness, he did not mind them anymore. Why does it matter? She is gone.

_**"Christine..."** _

"Hello?" Erik immediately scrambled his feet when he heard a small voice from the corner. He must be dreaming. He grabbed a candle stand from the ground and stood waiting from the shadows. _**"Who was that voice from the shadows?"**_ The figure stood and climbed from the waters. Her hair is blond sand, she wore clothing similar to a man's and she looked at him with wide blue eyes. She was terrified. Erik immediately covered the deformed side of his face and the girl loosened the shock from her face. "Monsieur Le Phantom?" asked Meg Giry hesitantly. Erik put down the stick and raised his one free hand as a gesture of surrender.

"You must be Mademoiselle Giry?" said Erik as he stared at the girl's eyes. She nodded slowly and they both sat on the wet floors of the lair. Erik moved his gaze away from Meg and stared at the other side of the walls. Meg Giry still stared at the poor man's figure opposite hers and observed him. She could not clearly see behind his palm which covered the right side of his face but she could see the deformed side of his head, a missing piece of his skin encircled a portion of flesh and Meg suddenly felt sick. But his body screamed agony and shame and to her dismay, she wanted to see him clearly.

"I brought you something, Monsieur." said Meg as she pulled something from her sack bag and slowly brought it in front of him. Erik widened his eyes when he saw his porcelain mask on her hands. He slowly reached for the mask and put it against the deformed side of his face. When he had finally felt comfortable, he turned around and stared at Meg again. "You do realize that keeping such possession will cost you your life." said Erik with a growled tone that made Meg anxious. But she stood her ground.

"I know that, Monsieur. But such possession should need to be kept in its resting place but you are here now." said Meg and while the Phantom still surrendered her by his gaze, she walked to where his organ resided once. She felt pity for the poor man because of how he had been treated by the people last night however, she thought about the crimes that had occurred within the opera house were somewhat reasons for her to run away from his presence. But Little Giry was foolish. "Why are you here, Monsieur Le Phantom?" asked she.

"Asking a question to a ghost is quite witless, isn't it? Poor girl. But to answer you, It seemed that I had nowhere to go." Erik kept his threatening gaze to Meg to at least try to scare her off and leave him alone. But her solemn face kept him to his guard. She looked just like her mother, indeed. He observed her slow pacing around his former home, tried to scan his ruined possessions and to excavate pieces of wood from the furniture. "Does your mother know that you are here?" asked Erik as he lowered his eyes to the floor. He suddenly felt useless when he noticed Meg unable to carry much wood on her arms anymore. He walked to her side and grabbed the rest of the wood from her which startled Meg.

"No, Monsieur. But I'm sure if you would ask for my mother's help for shelter just for the night, she would quite oblige." offered Meg to the mysterious man who helped her carry the wood logs to use for their fireplace and cooking. Erik lifted his gaze once again with questioning eyes. She is really trying help the devil. More foolish than Christine.

"You think so? I'm sure I scared her off with the lasso I tied around Piangi's neck." said Erik with a smug smirk to scare the girl more. But Meg Giry stood her ground and glared at him. "You did well enough to scare all of us, Monsieur. But when I found out that the Opera Ghost is just a man, no less than a thug, I would've not acted so scared." said Meg with a venom within her eyes. Ever since the night of Piangi's end, she was indeed scared of her life, but that time she also tried to accompany the vicomte to the lair because she also wanted to see for herself what is under her mother's feet. When she went with the mob, she saw nothing but the hostility of the place. Not a single thrill shook her bones but only when she caught a glimpse of a mask.

Erik was insulted to her words but she startled him by suddenly snatching back the wood logs from his arms. "You had nerve, mademoiselle. Which I will admire for now. I really do not have the strength to argue tonight." said Erik weakly as he sat once again on the cold floor of the lair. He observed her again as she dumped all the wood near his feet. "Well then, my offer still stands, Monsieur. Just a roof above your head and a hot soup during a cold weather are enough." said Meg as she crossed her arms in front of him.

"Why should I trust you not calling for the police?" he hesitated on Meg's offer although the idea made his stomach growl. Meg smirked at him confidently, no hidden remorse nor disgust. "As long as I tell my mother first and you carry the rest of these logs." she threw some of the wood to his feet and reached for the rest of her share. Meg thought she was still afraid of his presence but the moment she took a glimpse of his deformity, she suddenly felt quite intrigued of the man behind the mask.

"You idiot, girl! Why did you even go to that place? God knows what horrors would have happened to you?!" snapped Madame Giry the first moment she found her daughter carrying small logs of wood and a masked man behind her back. She was shocked when she returned to their little home, saw Meg throwing excess pieces of wood to their fireplace and the Phantom sitting on one of her parlor chairs. The moment she saw Erik's face, she wanted to grab his eyes out of his sockets but she knew his presence well enough as dark as the night. Erik only half smiled at her reaction and did a mocking bow. "Well good evening to you too, Madame. You daughter was quite a good samaritan this afternoon when she offered her place for me to stay for just a night."

"How can I be so sure you won't lay a hand on me or my daughter?" she suddenly encircled her hands around Meg as though she wanted to protect her from him. Erik raised his hands and went near the Girys' scared figures. "I cannot justify the crimes I've done out of my selfishness and anger. But I assure you, I'm not angry right now." Erik still stood his ground but remained calm. He moved his way near the fireplace and rubbed his hands to heat himself.

Madame Giry observed the Phantom and finally saw what was of him now. She breathed a sigh and finally calmed down. No matter how angry she is to Erik, he will always be the same man she met and cared before he settled beneath the opera house. A talented artist and quite a peculiar man, shunned by the world because he was not born right. She still regarded him with respect despite of the horrible deaths that had happened with his hands. That was why it was easy for her to follow his whim and was assured that his commands are for the sake of his love for the arts and of his devotion for the refinement of the Opera Populaire. He only wanted to be loved and yet, he was also scared. 

"Fine, then. Settle yourself only for the night. We will talk together first thing in the morning." said Madame Giry as she made her way to the kitchen.


	3. The Garden of Eden

**The Garden of Eden**

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The moment Christine saw light from above the tunnels of the opera house, she felt relief and breathed a deep sigh. Raoul assisted her walk quicker by supporting her shoulders. Once they both had stepped on the floors of the theater, the press and the police began to surround Christine and Raoul, chaos occurred at Paris. Raoul shouted at the people to step away and held Christine tight on her arms. A carriage stood by outside the doors and Raoul immediately carried Christine and helped her to settle inside the vehicle. When they both had finally fastened in, they both slumped their bodies on the seats. 

"Where are we going, Raoul?" asked Christine weakly as she stared at the Vicomte sat opposite of her seat. She observed him from head to toe. His sandy blond, once perfect hair was now disheveled and the first few buttons of his shirtsleeves were tugged open, exposed a few inches of his skin. His forehead and chest were covered with cold sweat. But his eyes showed that he was still vigilant. Christine was no less in the same situation as Raoul's. She felt also a little drowsy. They both had a rough night.

"I will take you to my home for now. I will let you rest there as long as you please. As long as we're quite far from the opera house." said Raoul as he gently reached for Christine's hand and soothed her. Christine could not mutter a single word during the whole carriage trip for suddenly, the exhaustion finally overcame her body. She stared at the window of their carriage, the whole city of Paris was still as dark as his lair. She thought of the last look on his face before she escaped from the underground and the cold metal which once encircled around her ring finger.

 _ **"Christine... I love you."**_ his last words to her etched a feeling into her heart. Her once displayed hate had suddenly, faded into pure-hearted mercy. From mercy to compassion. When she felt his cold lips onto hers, she did not cringed nor was disgusted. She appreciated the sincerity of those lips. The lips of her angel of music. The man who became her saving grace from the darkness who tried to pull her after her father's death. Her Maestro. The only person whom she could confide with. But he also tried to pull her into his own form of darkness, when she only wanted was someone to show her the light instead. Raoul was that person. The kind and sweet young man in front of her.

She knew she needed to forget her angel but had she already forgiven him? She did. The moment she had kissed him. Christine wondered if she ever reciprocated her feelings for him. She would have if he had not lied to her and lashed out at her. She was frightened of him. But had he already suffered enough in the eyes of men? Every person did not deserve this. Even him. her poor angel. Thrown just like how Lucifer fell. But she also knew that his horrific actions need not to be justified right.

Christine suddenly felt empty and in need of guidance. _**"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. Yearning for my guidance."**_ she heard his voice from inside her head. It was just a memory, but it is as if he passed it into her. She was still young and almost lost her life when her father died, he had filled that loss in her life. Now she missed him. Her once protector, teacher and friend. _**"Angel of music..."**_ she dozed herself to sleep.

"Christine, we're here." the Vicomte slightly shook Christine's shoulders to wake her up. She slowly opened her eyes and rubbed off the sleep. She looked out from the window of their carriage. The De Chagny estate. Her fiance's home. Even at night, it lit like a whole chandelier and all the sturdy foundations of the mansion made it a grandest thing. A butler came out from the doors and opened the carriage for them. 

"Good Evening, Monsieur Le Vicomte and Mademoiselle Daae. I shall both escort you to the parlor to rest yourselves." said the butler as he walked them to the house. "No, I shall speak to my father first, please escort Mademoiselle Daae to her room." told the Vicomte and with that, he kissed her good night and walked to the other side of the hall. The butler continued escorting Christine to one of the guest rooms of the house.

When she entered the room, she observed her surrounding. The room was intended for a female guest as the walls of the room were colored with flashes of gold and floral wallpapers. The room had one grand bed with tons of pillows covered under a soft, huge blanket. It also had its own bathroom, a vanity dresser and a grand closet of female clothing. The room was more than big enough just for Christine but she refrained herself from commenting further about it. "I shall instruct one of our maids to help you for your clothes. Do you need some soup to warm your throat?" asked the butler while he still stood just outside the door.

"Yes, please. Thank you." she nodded and the butler left her alone from her solitude. She, suddenly, noticed that she still wore the wedding dress that her angel had made for her. She wanted to tell herself that it was a beautiful creation made for a quite dark, horrid occasion. She could not fathom wearing it for much longer and she stood abruptly, tried to untie the laces behind her dress. In just the right time, a maid hurriedly entered her room and helped her untie and remove her corset. "Would you like for me to set up a warm bath?" asked the petite maid. Christine nodded as a response.

She dressed in her dressing gown and removed the rest of the pins from her hair while she waited for the maid to finish warming her bath. The maid went out of the bathroom and asked Christine if she could help her with her bath but Christine told her she wanted to be left alone for a little while. She carefully dipped herself through the warmth and comfort of the bath water and began to scrub herself from the grime and sorrows from the underground lair. Her hand touched the skin of her lips and her mind, suddenly, flew back. She thought of him, once again, but had he thought about her too? None of us might just totally forget the occurrence a while ago. Even Raoul. Oh, Raoul. He must be confused about what just happened, for she too was confused as any other man. After a few minutes in the water, she felt cold and numb until she got up from the tub to dry herself.

She stared at the ceiling of her warm lit room. She laid on her bed with her curls of hair still wet and only wore her dressing gown. She could not divert her mind into a different thought, for she could only see him. His eyes. Hazel brown mixed with reflected shade of white. Her fallen angel of music, whom she could not easily forget. How did he manage to guide her through her life if he had not done it for himself yet? Then his devotion for her must be great. Christine was snapped out of her trance when she heard a knock from her door.

"Christine, my dear. It's me, Raoul." said the Vicomte from the other side of the door. Christine stood hurriedly from her bed but walked slowly to the door. When she opened it, Raoul was now fully dressed charmingly as usual and smiled to her immediately when she met his blue eyes. But his once handsome smile did not reach his eyes unlike before. "May I come in?" asked he with a low voice. The people in the house must be asleep.

"I will not occupy much of your time for you also need a really great sleep." he went in with his hands clasped on his back and sat on the bedside chair. Christine also sat on the edge of her bed and stared at Raoul.

"I spoke with my father a while ago. You may stay here for a couple of days before everything subsides." said Raoul and he slowly put his hand on Christine's to comfort her. She willingly nodded but she suddenly thought of the opera house. Her life in the opera house. "What about the Opera Populaire?" asked Christine as she quickly pulled her hand from under his. Raoul frowned at her question.

"I think it is best if you do not go near the Opera Populaire yet. With too much heat ongoing, It will be disastrous. I doubt that he is not there anymore." replied Raoul with a slight bitterness in his words when he mentioned him. Even gone, Raoul was still cautious and he could not trust the man of his statements of her freedom.

"But what about my singing? I will still have to work there, right?" asked Christine worryingly. Even with all the unforgiving events, she still wanted to sing. Even if she could not sing for him anymore. At least for herself is enough. If there was something he left for her, it was her voice. And from hers, it was the ring. She felt the touch of cold metal once again.

"Yes, Christine. You will sing. But now now. Not yet. For now, you will rest and I will protect you." said Raoul with a sad tone within his voice as he softly caressed the side of her face. His skin warm with hers. She never felt his skin with hers even when he tried to caress her face that night from the mirror. Even if he tried, he would just abruptly pull himself away from her as if she was fire, ready to burn him. But she felt it. Yes, the coldness of his skin combined with his warm breath on her face.

"I will leave you for now. I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow. My family would love to meet you. I love you, Christine." With that, he kissed her hand and walked out of the door. When he was gone, Christine dipped her face on her hands. How could she thought of another man when her fiance was with her? Loved her. She must have thought like a harlot but she could not deny her mind less thoughts. Not yet. A day has not passed yet. It all just happened a few hours ago. How could she forget? For she knew, she just left the half piece of her heart in that place.

She laid on her bed and stared long at the ceiling again. Her wrist and neck ached from the cold struggle and from his pale hands. The last remaining of her strength tonight had finally drained from her body and she slowly succumbed to sleep.

She suddenly opened her eyes. She laid on the summer sight of grass with a tree to draw shade on her face. She instantly sat and roamed her eyes around the vast, grassy land until she noticed a man walking towards her. She realized this was not inside Raoul's house anymore. She was in some land that captivated her. She closed her eyes. She flinched when the stranger poked her shoulder with one finger. She looked at him slowly.

He had the same hazel brown eyes, jet black hair and a mild, pale skin tone. He smiled at her with beamed delight of her presence. The more she stare at him, the more she though that she knew of him. He was handsome and charming. Not royalty charming like Raoul but different kind of charming like her. Like him.

She would not dare compare this man to him for there is a wide difference. His face was complete. He, again, poked another finger on her shoulder to wake her up. She questioned him with her eyes and he just chuckled. "Want a sandwich, Mademoiselle?" asked the stranger while he held a vegetable sandwich on his right hand. She noticed that she now sat on a picnic mat with him. She nodded as a response and took the food.

"Thank you. This place is so peaceful." said Christine while she ate the remaining of her sandwich. She gazed at her behind to take notice at the tree. No, two oak trees. Two of them with almost triple meters apart. They were both under one of them and she noticed a blue rope, one end tied on the first tree trunk while the other end was tied the same on the other trunk. She walked near the rope and wiggled the whole length with one finger. That is when she noticed the middle of the rope. It would almost torn itself into half if it weren't for the few stitches of it still held on with each other. It was like someone tried to pull it off slightly harder.

"Just a few weeks ago, the trees were a meter apart. Then a neighbor told me that the other tree pulled itself another meter apart from here. I thought it was a joke. Then I saw you here and the trees are just... too far from each other." said the stranger comfortably to her. She took notice of his voice. It sounded quite velvety and deep. He also did not sound melancholy like his. It was much more joyful and sincere. She sat with him again and finally, she smiled back.

"Why would someone tie a rope between them?" asked Christine while she fidgeted the end of her gown.

"Well, the rope has been there for a long time. When I was a child, I used to play it like a jumping rope. Then other children joined me to play. The rope also became a clothing hanger but it could not support too much weight so it was left alone. The people could not pull it off for superstitious reasons." stated the man happily to his pretty guest while he watcher her quietly fidget her dress. Christine already grew fond of his company and he looked nothing like a thug or any strange person. In fact, he had captured her attention.

"I always see you here, actually. This place was actually my solitude for art and music. Until you came here, daily." Without a hint of any unwelcome remarks, he had actually offered her assurance that she could stay here too. By instinct, she introduced herself, "My name is Christine Daae, Monsieur?" waited for the response of his name.

"My name is what you named me, Christine." said the man without peculiarity as if it was the normality of it. They spent most of their time in silence and just gazed at the vastness of the land. She took notice of his appearance once again. He casually sat beside her with crossed legs. He wore white shirtsleeves hanged loosely around his lean body and tight black pants tucked along with brown, riding boots. His shiny eyes gazed forward as if they can reach the ends of the earth.

"You said you like music." said Christine absently. She remembered him saying he does music here. The man beamed and knelt in front of her. He asked her if she would like to hear him sing a short piece. In Christine's delight, she knelt as well and nodded excitingly. Finally, some song to hear, she thought.

The man stood beside the oak tree and released an overwhelming breath. The moment he opened his mouth, she was flying. _**"The day starts, the day ends. Time crawls by."**_ His voice was familiar but she could not point a finger. The shade slowly encolored his face and she, again, took notice of his expressions.

 _ **"Night steals in pacing the floor, the moments creep, yet I can't bear to sleep. Till I hear you sing."**_ His eyes contained unshed tears and it lit up like a candle. His face, once again, captivated her. Not much older than her, he looked like he had a lot of experience in the world. _**"And sometimes at night time, I dream that you are there, but wake holding nothing by the empty air."**_ Finally, he looked back at her green, bright eyes.

Suddenly, Christine noticed his face gloom. Like a hasty memory surrounded his whole being, but he sang on. _**"And music, your music. It teases at my ear. I turn and it fades away, and you're not here!"**_ the last note of the verse rose her spirit and without notice, it brought anguish inside her heart. The song produced more honest verses and feelings until he had finally sang the last verse. _**"Without you, what are they for? I'll always feel no more than halfway real. Till I hear you sing once more."**_

They both breathed a sigh and the man still stood in silence. It was not happy. She was not happy. They were both not happy. Just a while ago, she jumped in joy for a song and he stood confidently with a raised chin. But now, all turned gloomy and the skies turned shady. Christine saw his head suddenly turned to the direction of the other tree. That is when they both noticed it. "The tree, it pulled itself apart again." remarked the man as he walked to where the center of the rope float.

The few stitches that were once intact are now snapped away. To their estimation, there were at least five more stitches intact to keep the rope steady. Christine was confused. "Interesting." the man muttered under his breath.

"Every time you come here under this tree, its pair suddenly pulls away a few inches apart." it sounded like an accusing remark but he said it to her soothingly. To Christine, the way she looked at the other tree, it was like a different kind of illusion. It was made to be far away, wasn't it?

"What should I do?" asked Christine to the kneeling man in front of her. She started to feel the coldness of the breeze and the man's gaze.

"If you come back here to see me, the tree might pull away again. If you don't, it would stay still." replied the man sadly. It seemed that he would not like the rope to be split apart. Christine was, again, confused. What could a rope cost? "The neighbors said there was a curse that consumed this land. The rope was its symbol and it's been there for God knows when. The rope was supposed to be as strong as metal, not even age could snap it apart." added the man.

"But how did the trees move?" asked Christine with a confused gaze.

"That I do not know, Christine. I am no believer of such stories." replied the man as he finally sat beside her again.

Christine asked the same question once again, "What should I do?"

 _ **"So do you end your days with me? Or do you send him to his grave?!"**_ a voice suddenly boomed out from the skies. To her shock, Christine yelped in distress and stood hurriedly from the ground. But the man looked bemused, stared at her as shocked as she was. "Christine?"

 _ **"Please no..."**_ muttered Christine under her breath. The man stood and tried to reach her hands to calm her but she ran away from him and from the place.

She jolted from her sleep, her body covered with cold sweat. Her heart kept on beating frantically. It was a dream. Just a dream. She stood from the bed and went to the bathroom. She washed her blushed face with cold water until she felt moist enough. She went back to her room and laid against her bed again. Again, she diverted to the ceiling once again.

She had too many questions about her dream. Who was that man? Why did he sang beautifully? Why had she heard his voice again? No, wait.

Why did they both had the same voice? It was impossible. He was handsome and the other was beautiful? No, peculiar. They were both peculiar. The man had no name, so was he. The remaining shade of night had passed while her eyes remained open.

It was eight in the morning when the maid helped Christine with her bath once again and she brought her a new set of clothing from the closet, which to Christine's unnoticeable frustration, borrowed from one of Raoul's sisters.

After she finishes her bath, she wore the summer yellow gown with brown floral details on the dress skirt and puffy shoulder sleeved down until her wrists. Her chest and neck were quite exposed to her liking and were surrounded with brown, intricate laces. A dress for an elite. Not for her. But she settled in any way and went out of her room to the dining area.

The Vicomte dressed as handsomely as possible. The moment he saw Christine coming into the dining room, he was captivated. She looked beautiful with the sun rays which lightened her skin. He saw her smile to him but noticed it did not reach her eyes unlike before and both of it still looked quite tired. He reached a hand for her to grab. 

"Good Morning, my love." greeted Raoul as he kissed her hand. She greeted him back and both of them made their way to the table. There sat on the middle of the right end of the table was the Vicomte's father, the Senior de Chagny greeted Christine with fine civility and she curtsied back. To the left of the senior was the Comte de Chagny, Philippe. Raoul's older brother. Christine observed him. He had the same blue eyes and complexion that Raoul had also inherited. He also had the same style of hair and he would have looked like Raoul if it weren't for his mustache. But his whole being signified something that Christine could not yet comprehend.

Unlike the older man, the Comte's greeting was rather stiff yet civilized enough. The two other people beside the Comte were Raoul's sisters, Madame Victoria Beaumont and Mademoiselle Henrietta de Chagny. They both looked like the usual women of class and Christine knew that she did not look like them even with the borrowed gown. "Isn't she a pretty one, Raoul?" exclaimed Henrietta with a sway of her fan in front of her face. Raoul replied to his sister with a beamed smile. "Of course she does, she wears my dress!" remarked by the lady before she sat on her seat. Christine felt her stomach churn. She wished she could throw the dress into the fire. She felt uncomfortable wearing a hand-me-down dress.

"How is the situation of the Opera Populaire?" asked the patriarch of the family to Raoul, who was quietly chatting with Christine. Raoul lifted his gaze to his father and answered him as honestly as he could. "What about the so-called Opera Ghost?" Didn't he tried to kidnap Christine here?" asked Henrietta while she ate her salad. Christine flinched and Raoul held her hand under the table.

"Henriette, please. Too much has happened at the opera house that you will not interest yourself to hear. This discussion will be mentioned on another time." said solemnly the Vicomte while in truth, he was quite irritated of his sister's remarks. She had always been the annoying figure of the family and the party gossip.

"Does he really look hideous? Like he had a death's head? The rumors said that the managers tried to sacrifice Miss Daae here to the monster so that he could spare the doom of the opera house!" wildly exclaimed Henrietta for the last time and Christine could not control her anger anymore, "Please shut up!"

Everyone at the table were all shocked, even Christine. Tension and silence surrounded the dining area. She slowly stared at Raoul beside her. He looked much more stiff than even and it did not brought her the consolation she needed. She felt burned and would love to run away from this place forever.

"You spoke quite rash today, Mademoiselle. I would suggest you should know your place." For the first time of the entire breakfast, the Comte de Chagny reacted with an authoritative voice. The breakfast continued with no one dared to say anything. After it finished, Christine hurriedly dismissed herself and ran to her room, with Raoul behind her.

"What is that, Christine? You should have just denied the rumor about the Phantom." exclaimed Raoul as he sat on the bedside chair in front of Christine. He was not startled with the reaction Christine had expressed but the purpose of her defending the Phantom. Even now, he thought she still pitied the man. "I could not tolerate her, Raoul. She was too much impulsive to my liking. Even if no one regarded him, he was still my teacher!" Now once again with her naivety, but Christine was strong willed. Raoul could not rebuke her and tell her that she was still not free from his deception and tricks. He knew it was all Christine and her compassionate heart. 

"No, Christine. you are now free of him. He released you and I saved you. You must learn to live up by yourself, without his help." stated Raoul while he touched Christine's shoulders.

"Am I truly free?" said Christine before she asked Raoul to leave her alone for a while. She slowly sat on the floor with the closed door behind her back. She suddenly felt the moist in her eyes. She remembered the oak tress and the blue, shiny rope. Her tears had finally been shed.

* * *

Erik sat on the parlor with Madame Giry in front of him. They drank their morning tea together. Erik had finally released himself from the grime of his cruelty and finally wore fresh shirtsleeves in a black waistcoat and pants. He had donned a new jet black wig to cover his ruined scalp and along with it was his porcelain mask, which covered the demon on his face. With enough dignity left, he sat confidently.

Madame Giry observed her guest with a critical eye. He looked like the same man that she met in the newly built Opera Populaire. But this time, there was not a single confidence etched on his face. It was just hollow.

"What do you plan to do now?" asked Madame Giry. To Erik's dismay, he still had no place to go nor a friend to trust aside from the Daroga and the Girys, which, he thought, would not like to be involved with him much longer. What did he expect? There was a price on his head.

"Nothing. Maybe to just die." replied Erik with a tone of hopelessness. He stared down absently to the Madame's shoes. Ever since the night Christine left, he had been still and much more melancholy than he ever thought he would be. He had no song to hear nor a voice to listen to. In the darkness of his mind, he felt dying gradually.

"I had a dream, Madame. It was beautiful. A land full of grass, under an oak tree with her. But it became so strange to my liking and I had to wake up." explained the Phantom with a slight joy in his eyes, Madame Giry saw the shine from his eyes too and she finally gave him her full attention. "How strange?" asked the Madame.

"I looked like a man. I saw it from her eyes." he replied with a smile that somehow, fascinated the lady. It was sad but sincere. "There is a rope tied between the two oak trees and she told me that whenever I visit that place, the trees would drift apart, inch by inch until the rope is free." With a stern tone and a rigid expression, he could not control a tear that had shed from his eyes. He immediately wiped it and kept the hostility of his face remain.

Madame Giry thought if the Phantom understood his own visions. If he did, he did not explain it anymore. But she listened to him wholeheartedly this time and allowed herself to release a sigh after he had finished.

"Monsieur Le Phantom, if you were to promise us that we will not be involved with your unforgiving acts, I will surely guarantee your safety." said Madame Giry with the same civility she always express with her colleagues and superiors. The Phantom stared at her like a child willing to surrender to a mother's whim. After a few moments of silence, he nodded willingly. 

"Well, then. There is an old, abandoned cabin way behind our village. It was first hidden behind a secluded street but eventually the house was quite far from the nearest neighborhood. No one will surely disturb you there" stated Madame Giry as she gave him a map of the village. With that, Erik stood up and fixed himself for travel. He sincerely thanked Madame Giry and her daughter for their hospitality and kindness.

"I might have willingness to visit you there soon. But for now, we part ways and you must heal yourself." she said the same phrase that Nadir once had said to him genuinely. Just how he was able to heal himself?

When the Phantom had reached for the door, he suddenly looked back to the Girys. "Thank you once again and I'm sorry for the fault I've done to you both."


	4. A New Beginning

**A New Beginning**

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Two days had passed, Christine sat near the window of her guest room. Without sugarcoating, she was perfectly bored and silent. For two small days, she was already dying to get out and release her voice. She also missed her friends back at the opera, especially Meg. She missed the running, squirming, shouting and dancing of the staff and the ballet. Lastly, she missed the call of his voice. But she knew she would not hear him anymore nor see him again, for she was set free.

Raoul also kept track of Christine, that she also loved and acknowledged. At least there was someone whom she could talk with during these trying times. But most of the atmosphere of the house was just too formal and mature to her liking. The men would chat about business and horseback riding, the women would gossip ghastly things and Henrietta. Dear Lord, Henrietta! She was a witch. Every time she met her downstairs, she would ask things about her life, accomplishments and the Opera Ghost and she would, eventually, twist her words back. She almost loved to insult her work with sarcastic remarks.

Philippe De Chagny was another thing, thought Christine. He seemed to like to discourage his younger brother of their engagement. But Raoul also seemed to respect his brother like a role model. There was a time when Philippe regarded her as a ballet rat during their 'recreational' activities on the afternoon sun. He was right, she was once a ballet rat and why would the Vicomte waste his precious time with her?

Raoul's father spent most of his time in his office so Christine did not often met with him downstairs. In conclusion, Christine fell in love with the silence of her room. She loved to spend her free time to read books or hum ridiculous notes from her throat. She laid on her bed after she got her eyes tired from reading on the window nook. Suddenly, a brief knock sounded from her door.

"Good Afternoon, Miss Daae. A letter from the post." The head butler of the house gave her a beige-colored envelope before he quickly left. " _Fr: Monsieurs Richard Firmin and Giles Andre,"_ written on top of the scented paper. She unfolded the paper carefully:

According to Raoul, The Opera Populaire had lost half of its expenses due to the full house refundment from Don Juan Triumphant and the mess that had happened after that. Maybe that is why the managers were so desperate having her back since La Carlotta had already left Paris after Piangi's death. Christine was almost ready to bite the offer, but she knew Raoul would not easily let her for it had been barely two days since the night happened but Christine wanted to ask. She must ask.

It was nearly five in the afternoon and Raoul must still be in the parlor with some visitors, so Christine had to wait for him to come visit her during the night. She closed her eyes to rest the strain from her eyes.

"Do you still want to sing?" asked the man from her dreams. They both laid themselves down on the grass under the oak tree. Before she answered her newfound friend, she gazed on the other oak tree. It parted away an inch once again and it slightly bothered her but it seemed that the man did not mind anymore.

"Am I stupid to say I still do? After all that had happened." said Christine as she felt a churn from her stomach. Christine did not mean to be selfish, she merely wanted to continue to work or perhaps, pursue beyond Paris. She could not depend on Raoul's money forever and she had no coin right now. Those little problems felt more unbearable when she met his family. She felt so small with all her borrowed gowns. She could not escape.

"But you are going to get married, right?" A big pale of cold water finally splashed onto her face. The man had no fault but yet the question still bothered her. She almost forgot that she was engaged to Raoul, considering their ring was still missing. But the ring was just an accessory at all, it did not even fit her finger. But still, Christine had to ask. She still wanted to work even married for she was still young and had less experience with norms of marriage. Or if they could just wait for a little while.

 _ **"O Heavens high, do not let the little songbird lose her wings yet. For she had the biggest wings I've ever seen."**_ the man sang as he mimicked a bird's flapping wings. Christine laughed sweetly and jokingly slapped his shoulder. Christine stood from the ground and began to flap her arms like a bird as well. _**"If I am to be kept silent, I might as well sleep on my lil' nest."**_

 _ **"If I am to remain shut, I might as well cuddle my lil' babies to sleep."**_ she ran to the man and gently, patted his head. He let out his beautiful smile. With her lead, he followed her and played bird along with her. _**"If you are a bird, I'm your nest."**_ sang he.

 _ **"Will you keep me warm tomorrow?"**_ continued Christine. He jumped in front of her and let out his finger to raise her chin. _**"I shall warm your wings today."**_

Christine felt longing and guidance and this man offered her all of it. She was about to sing again but he suddenly opened his mouth, _**"You will fly soon, my dear. Icarus will only fall if he flew near the sun."**_ With that, Christine felt her legs weakened and she woke up from her nap.

She grabbed her pocket watch and realized she had been sleeping for hours and she had skipped dinner as well. A maid knocked on her door and brought dinner into her room. She, immediately, felt quite embarrassed of herself for not showing up on dinner but she hoped Raoul made up a good explanation to his family. Christine did not thought of it more further as she sat on her bed slowly ate her meat.

Christine prepared herself for the night's slumber when she heard a knock again from her door. "Christine, It's Raoul." said the Vicomte from the other side of the door. Christine took a deep breath before she opened the door for him. This is the right time, she thought. "Good Evening, Raoul." greeted Christine with a light smile.

"Hello, Christine. Are you alright? I didn't see you at dinner." asked Raoul worryingly. He observed his Christine for any ill signs before he looked to her green eyes. For a moment, he was deeply captivated of her eyes and her glowing face. But he had more important matters to tell Christine and he hoped she was also excited as him.

"I'm alright, Raoul. Please sit, I have something to tell you." said Christine as they both sat on the edge of the bed beside each other. They both saw glimmer in each other's eyes. Christine saw the eagerness from Raoul's eyes and she realized that he needed to say something too, with so much excited contained in his eyes. She heartily laughed at the sign and fell on to his whim. She let him have the stage first.

"I spoke with my father along with the rest of the family. I think It's time the whole world will have to know of our engagement." said Raoul with his glimmering excitement. Christine also felt the enthusiasm of having Raoul with her side, in his box while he watched his bride sing. "There will be an engagement party next week to make this announcement known, I will deal with this, of course. Nothing to worry about." followed he.

Christine slightly felt irrelevant, letting Raoul do everything while it must be done together with her. But Christine's own news swayed the troubles away for now. This way, she nodded willingly, "I'm glad all is well, my dear Raoul. I can't also wait for all this to be done." said Christine.

They both breathed a relief sigh and for a few moments, the room was filled with silence. Christine did not like it at all and now, thought it is time. "Raoul, the managers of the Opera Populaire sent me a letter this afternoon." Christine grabbed the opened scented paper and gave it to Raoul. He read the letter solemnly until he slowly folded it back, signaled Christine to add, "They want me back to sing, I want to sing."

Raoul made a look that Christine could not comprehend but she knew she would not like it. "You can't, Christine. I'm sorry." The truth had came out from Raoul's mouth like a crashing wave and it stung Christine. Why not? Why can't she sing anymore? Lots of questions began to flood Christine's mind.

"What do you mean I can't? Raoul, please. You know I still need to work to make a living and besides, I felt I had a big responsibility for the theater after all that's happened!" said Christine worryingly, with unshed tears from her eyes. She tried her best not to humiliate herself enough in front of the Vicomte. Raoul made a woeful face but he had to be firm if it meant for Christine's safety.

"Christine, please listen to me. I could not easily trust them for your safety. A lot has happened and your life is what is important to me now." said Raoul as he held Christine's hands warmly. Christine understood what he meant. She remembered their song at the rooftop of the opera house. That is what it all meant when she fell in love with Raoul. She wanted his arms, his comfort and his love. Christine was about to reply when Raoul added, "You will become a Vicomtess, Christine. You won't have to struggle working anymore."

Christine widened her eyes. It felt like reality had crashed her down. Is that how women of their society do? She felt uncomfortable to the fact. "But I want to sing. It's not just work. I wanted to stand on the stage again. Even if it's not the Opera Populaire anymore. It was my destiny. My life." Christine thought she had hope if she could convince Raoul more and exclude the Paris Opera out of the picture. But she immediately frowned when he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Christine. You know the cost of marrying a Vicomte. But I do not wish of ill will for you. I want you to be happy and I swear to you that I will give you the whole world. You do not need to burden yourself with puerile things." said Raoul with resoluteness and embraced Christine. She did not resist from his comfort nor she had strength anymore to pull away. She let her tears fall from her eyes as the last note from her ears had finally faded. She sat still until Raoul was the first to pull away. He felt his heart stung when she saw unwiped tears from her cheeks. He wiped them with his thumbs gently and he kissed her forehead. "I love you, Christine. I had to protect you. One day, you will understand."

Christine stared absently at the closed door of her room after Raoul bid her good night. It was so quiet and she wanted the soft music to come back. _**"Icarus flew too high and now he has fallen."**_ She could not stop her tears from falling anymore as she laid on her bed. Her dreams, her voice and her life had been left behind in his lair. They were all gone just because he did not sang back and he let her go. But wasn't that what she wanted from the beginning? To leave her alone and to spare her from his own doom? Yes, that was what she wanted because she was frightened of him. But was she still scared? Christine felt like a child at all. Raoul was right. She was puerile. All of her dreams will be just puerile things once she says _I do._

_**"Angel of music, please protect me."** _

* * *

Erik felt his stomach growl at the sight of a family eating at a nearby restaurant. _**"Spare me from these unending trials!"**_ sang to himself as he continued to walk to his destination. It had been two days already since he left the Girys. He traveled by foot and walked within the secluded streets to prevent himself from being seen by most people. During this hour of the afternoon, the parisians would settle in their homes for the night. This gave him an advantage to travel freely without having to glance at his back.

He was near the said abandoned cabin and he breathed a sigh when he noticed that it was, indeed, a little far away from the other houses. At least it was quite safe unless someone dares to die alone, Erik thought. Finally, a few steps brought him in front of an old, dusty summer cabin. It was big enough for Erik but comfortable enough for a small family. According to Madame Giry, the vacation home was once owned by a wealthy family. Disaster came when the family was, according to the reports, massacred inside the cabin. Since then, neighbors decided to be settled away from the area, believed it to be haunted by troubled souls. The cabin was abandoned for thirty seven years.

"Well, I'm a haunted man, myself. I shall belong here." chuckled Erik as he went inside the house. The door was not locked and all the furniture were wrapped with white dust coverings. He noticed a couple of books unorganized around the parlor room, ruined photo frames of the poor victims and cracked pieces of glass from the mirrors and windows. All of the old possessions that were left behind displayed horridness and it cringed Erik to the gut. He was human and the crimes he had committed had only added to his guilt and pity for the murdered family.

In the middle of the night, Erik had started a fire at the backyard and angrily, had thrown all the evidence of death to it: clothing, photos, memorabilias, stained books and furniture. He watched the fire that had consumed the objects and muttered, _**"May you all rest in peace."**_ He stood there for almost an hour until he decided to go back and check the upper rooms.

Erik was relieved when the upper rooms were not as frightening as the rooms downstairs. The master bedroom was still dusty but tidy enough to sleep in for the night. He pulled some of the coverings and shook the dust away. "God, It smells hell in here!" grumbled Erik as he opened the closet. He really needed to spend his morning tomorrow to clean the house.

When Erik was quite satisfied with his slight cleaning, he began to remove his cloak, tailcoat and full black mask. He refrained himself from using the porcelain mask after he stepped out from the Giry home. Aside from its eyecatching quality, it reminded him of his life under the opera house. He had to use a darker one to remain unrecognized. It covered most of his face except his mouth and chin. He lit one candle on the bedside and laid his back on the old queen sized mattress.

 _ **"Angel of music, my sanctuary."**_ sang Erik as he stared at the dusty ceiling of his room. For the past two days, he only dreamt of his sweet Christine, with her chocolate curls and bright, green eyes. He could see her opening her mouth but could not hear her voice. It was infuriating and unbearable, it was like talking with an empty vessel.

But if this was his punishment, maybe he deserved the silence. He had frightened her, deceived her and hurt her. He had never meant for all of this to happen to her but he knew it was too late. He was unwell and scared. Scared to lose the person he loved and he lost her still, because of his monstrosity.

But Christine was an angel, still. She had sang for him, waited for him to sing back. But he was too hurt, no voice had been delivered to her except from the man she loved. All Erik could do was to whimper his _I love yous_ to her. And then he lost his song. His voice and his mask. If he could bring back time, he would not force her. He will love her with his heart even if it meant letting her go with someone else and he would be her family and the protector she once needed. A person she could confide to without frightening her. Just that, he could finally belong to a family he wished for. 


	5. Black and White

**Black and White**

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Tomorrow is their engagement party. Christine had been staying in the estate for a week already and the weather was quite rainy. She was covered under a pile of blankets that kept her warm for tonight. Raoul had been a very gentle and patient host to her and he insisted on fetching for her things last week that made her quite occupied for the rest of the week inside her guest room.

She never talked about her singing ever since the first time she told Raoul about it last week. Christine tried to distract herself from the thought by often conversations with Raoul and read books until her eyes got tired. She also chatted with Raoul's sisters but their company infuriated her.

During nights, she would dream of her new friend under the oak tree and tried to beg him to sing for her. His moods were quite strange for Christine, sometimes he would sing for her a jolly song or _not._ But he was always gentle and kind to her. His endless smiles would always fit with the light of the sun and of course, they would always captivate her. His divine voice would lift her soul powerfully that oftentimes, made her jolt up from her sleep. 

Christine was clueless, though, on why she would dream of him the same every night and why the blue rope between the tree trunks still held on as if there was someone who tended to it everyday. It was superstitious. If she was to be honest, the man had already filled the silence, the longing, and the desperation she would always feel whenever Raoul would keep her in her space all day. His brown eyes had filled the vision of her dreams. Christine longed for her voice to arise once again. Maybe tomorrow would be a new chance.

Another day passed and Christine stared at herself from the mirror. Crystal pins surrounded the curls of her hair, her makeup covered most of her pale skin and made her more beautiful and sparkling bright. She wore a pure white gown that completely added more to her innocence. Her chest and clavicles were quite exposed perfectly and the sleeves of her dress hanged loosely on her shoulders. Her skin shone like a diamond under the candle lights of her guest room. At first, Christine thought she looked like she was to perform in an opera but she noticed the newly engagement ring around her finger. _Marriage, it awaits._

Before she could notice the time running, she heard a knock from her door. Christine expected that it was the maid that would try to help her with her dress again but to her aghast, the Comte De Chagny slowly entered her room. She looked at him through her mirror. Even though, Philippe intimidated her, he looked quite charming himself. At his age, he was strong built, tall and handsome, in his way. He had Raoul's eyes, which shone like the color of the sea. But the Comte was nowhere near the innocence of his nature, which Raoul had instead.

Christine was snapped out of her trance when the Comte loudly clicked his tongue and shook his head with taunted disapproval. She tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes when she noticed the gesture of annoyance from him. Philippe was never the one to hide hostility from the people he did not like. Christine knew she was one of them ever since he first regarded her as a ballet rat. These past few days were also not any stranger to her. But while Christine did not like the man, Raoul, on the other hand, truly admired him.

Raoul might defend her from Philippe's remarks but mostly, it was just her against the world. It is as if Raoul looked small behind his brother's back and he would follow his whim anytime he wanted. It irritated Christine. She now looked behind her and stared at the Comte's eyes. She slightly curtsied and greeted him. "Good Evening, Monsieur Le Comte. What can I do for you?" Christine tried her best to remain composed.

He, sternly, smirked at her and proceeded to mock her courtly. "So you haven't changed your mind, Miss Daae. No surprise, though. It's usual for women like you to persist." He began to pace around her room without removing his gaze from her.

Christine felt her hands form into tight fists. It was always like this and she would always just kept her mouth shut. But finally, after a few moments of silence, "I was supposed to ask your meaning, Monsieur. But I'm afraid playing innocent with you would not work with the both of us. Because one will be rendered naive while the other would be affronted." remarked Christine with a half smile formed across her lips and it made her satisfied when his snide smirk faded from his lips.

"Some nerve, Miss Daae. I am now quite surprised. I did not know such fire actually existed from your _innocent_ appearance." said Philippe as he now stood tall in front of her. Before she could reply, he had spoken again, "Now I see why the rumored Opera Ghost took a liking at you. Such attitude would actually be fitting on everything such as his bed." With a satisfactory smile, he bowed stiffly and left from her room.

Christine almost felt her blood boil with the Comte's last comment. He thought of her a _fille de joie_. A stranger's muse. Before she could succumb to her warm tears, she immediately grabbed her handkerchief and wiped the moist under her eyes. She did not expect such a man of royalty like him was capable of these offending remarks. As far as Christine knew, she did not do anything wrong to the Comte except to be born a pauper, not a princess. A maid went into her room and put a few more ribbons on her waist, "Miss Daae, It's time." said the servant as she waited for Christine to walk with her downstairs. Finally, after a brief moment, she breathed a sigh and gracefully went out of her room.

While she took a few steps down the grand stairs with grace, Raoul stood on the last step with an endearing smile. He always had his own way of making the butterflies in her stomach flutter. He wore his usual, expensive evening suit: a black tailcoat and a waistcoat buttoned up until below his chest while the rest above with a pure white shirt and a golden cravat. His clothing suited the contrast with her gown. Black and White, a perfect pair.

When Christine stood in front of the Vicomte, he gently grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it, "You look divine, my sweet Christine. Does everything suit you well?" asked Raoul blissfully while he caressed Christine's cheeks with both of his palms. The first time Christine saw the gown Raoul had gifted for her, she was astonished at its pureness. She could not imagine herself wearing it at first but look at her now, a star of the night.

She hooked her arm on the Vicomte's as they finally moved their way to the main dining hall, where multiple wealthy guests sat, drank and conversed. As Christine stood with Raoul at the main table, He repeatedly tapped his wine glass with a spoon to gain attention from the visitors. Faces turned toward their direction and Christine suddenly felt tense. Raoul also sensed her feeling and gently squeezed her hand to comfort her.

"Good Evening, everyone. I want to thank you all for being with us tonight. This means so much to us and to my family." started Raoul as he smiled genuinely to the audience. Christine felt jovial for Raoul's sincerity. Then he continued, "Tonight is very special for me as I finally introduce to you, my bride to be. The love of my life, Miss Christine Daae." As her name was announced, a big applause flooded the whole room. Christine quite felt the appreciation of the people but in the corner of her eye, she saw a stiff Comte De Chagny beside his sisters at the corner table.

Christine thought everything was over when the people relaxed but Raoul continued his speech, "The first time I met her was when we were children at the shores of a sea. I was walking along with my governess when I saw a little girl younger than my age, wearing a red scarf. Suddenly, a strong wind blew her scarf away and my instinct got the better of me. I ran to the water, with my usual clothing, dove, soaked myself and quite clumsily fetch her scarf." Christine heard a few chuckles from the guests that made her smile widely. Of course, Raoul had to tell the sweet story of their little beginnings. When she saw little Raoul rose from the shore, she immediately grabbed her scarf from him and with great admiration, she kissed his cheek and spoken her joyful thanks. She invited him to their small apartment and introduced him to her father, Gustave Daae. After a few days, they became very close and they both enjoyed her father's violin playing and his numerous children's stories. But Christine and her father had to travel away once again, she thought it would be the last time she'll see him.

Now that same boy stood beside her, with fascination in his eyes and he would be her other half for the rest of her life. She could not stop smiling to herself until a cloud in her vision struck her mind. She suddenly felt uneasy.

She woke up from her sudden trance when the crowd produced loud claps and compliments once again to the couple and she now sat relaxed beside Raoul. Meals and drinks were served to the guests for the rest of the evening and Christine knew that she would not feel as much hungry as she was before the announcement. While Raoul now conversed with the guests away from her, Christine just stared at her dinner.

All she could feel right now was the sense of longing in her heart once again. She was supposed to feel merry tonight of their engagement yet she longed for her small home, her friends and _him._ Whom she expected once that would be a part of her life and happiness. The only person who could assure of her future. The only person who once had the right to wipe her tears and make her laugh with childish jokes. The only person who served as the only family she knew after her father died. She longed for him now, her angel. But now he was gone and he would not come back, ever.

"Why so silent, Miss Daae? You don't like the pasta?" said Henrietta abruptly as she sat beside Christine along with other women with her. Christine immediately felt the same hostility she had when the Comte came into her room a while ago. But Christine had to practice to put up an act if she would eventually be committed with Raoul forever. This was just a tip of the iceberg.

"Oh, It was just my recent stomach ache kicking in." replied Christine humbly. The girls giggled and started to lift their fans again, which covered their faces. 

"Aww. Poor you, dear. Are you sure it's the stomach ache or regrets?" asked Henrietta with a ghastly guffaw that made Christine mortified on her seat. Henrietta's friends followed her cackles until they slowly ran out of breath. Christine's hands still held the edge of her seat firmly.

"You know, when I first received Raoul's letter about him having found a lady, I quite thought It was Veronica. She's as pretty as Christine. Maybe Raoul was not into simple ones." Raoul's other sister, Madame Beaumont finally joined their little gossip group. The girls' eyes slowly took a glance to a certain lady whom Raoul was now conversing with.

She had black curls same as Christine's. Like her, she looked stunning in her sparkling, blue dress but unlike her, she looked refined and well known. Christine suddenly felt a pang of jealousy when Raoul smiled at her widely. She let him be and proceeded to stare at her untouched food.

"Oh, by the way, Miss Daae. I watched your last performance last week. What is it, Don Juan Triumphant? You were really amazing." said one of Henrietta's friends with sincere fascination in her eyes. Christine smiled back at her and muttered her thanks.

"But, Letty! A man died and some ugly demon kidnapped Miss Daae during the show! Speaking of, what exactly happened after that?" asked another lady beside Letty who now stared at Christine for gossip, ready to grab upon. The rest of the girls followed her gaze.

Christine felt her tight hands moist with anxiety and desperately, in need of Raoul's help. But when she looked at Raoul's direction, he was with his older brother with a couple of other men far away from her table.

"If I remember correctly, I heard something about forcing her to marry the Opera Ghost and It was Raoul who saved the day!" exclaimed Henrietta to her small crowd. They all gaped in awe with her tittle tattle which made Christine anxious. Who told her that? She felt the urge to take a glance to Raoul again. No, he would not, wouldn't he?

"But we haven't heard the real story from Christine. What does she have to say?" another girl asked and Henrietta bumped Christine with her shoulder, now with expecting stares.

Christine knew she had to say something that would make them shut up once and for all. Even if it would meant offense to Henrietta's little ego but she had no right invade anyway. She looked directly at Henrietta's eyes and spoke, "I know it was a controversial part of my life but all of you should stop digging when there's none to dig for. Whatever the rumors had told you, they were all far from the truth." said Christine firmly while she forced herself to raise her chin.

This alarmed Henrietta and Christine saw her brow rise with intimidation. She felt her heart beating fast with agitation. Slowly, Henrietta moved her seat a little bit closer to Christine so that she could only hear what she had to reply, "I just had to make sure that the scandal of a life of yours would not ruin our family's name. I think Philippe had already reminded you of it a while ago. But we will let this slip because our brother loves you and we love a good gossip." Then she stood from her seat away from Christine and the rest of the ladies followed her with mocking chuckles.

After a few seconds of anxiety, Christine abruptly stood from her seat, had ignored some curious stares and moved to find Raoul. But when she saw him talking to Henrietta, she felt the urge to just run back to her room instead. But before she could step up to the first step, Raoul stopped her.

"Christine, my dear. what's wrong?" asked Raoul as he held on Christine's shoulders and guided her to the main library. The silence of the library calmed her from the 'chaos' that happened outside. Raoul instantly knew that Christine was agitated with the guests' endless gossips and Henrietta. Raoul scolded her for a little while before he noticed Christine going away.

When Christine finally soothed her nerves, she weakly spoke, "I want to get out of here for a little while. Please, Raoul. I miss Meg. I just want to see them for a few days before I stay here with you forever." She almost sounded desolate but she wanted this to be the truth within her words.

Even with just a week, Christine thought she had gone mad. Aside from the child play that Raoul's siblings plotted against her, she was isolated. With no closure, no proper goodbyes and no good exchanges that she had to give to her family, including him. She knew she owed them an explanation of her feelings, especially Meg. How she wanted to talk to her and cry on her shoulder right now like she used to.

"Please, Raoul. Just a few days, give it a week. To visit Meg and Madame Giry before our wedding day the week after. I promise I'll just stay with them in our home, not near the opera house." said Christine with her unshed tears. Raoul felt bad for keeping her in his home, isolated from the outside. He had acted very strict to her like a jailer and the last thing he wanted was to make her despise him. With that, he rubbed her bare shoulders comfortably.

"Alright, my dear. I will let you visit them first day tomorrow. I knew you wanted it for a long time but I acted like an arse. For that, I hope you could forgive me, my Christine." said Raoul with an assuring smile. Christine widened her eyes but eventually, her smile harmonized with Raoul's. Her tears had finally shed and she embraced Raoul tightly. "Oh God, Thank you so much, Raoul. And my dear, there's nothing to forgive. You just wanted to protect me." thanked Christine within her faint hiccups.

Raoul heartily laughed at Christine's happy tears and reciprocated her embrace. He did acted like an arse for making her beg for her small freedom. He rubbed her small back gently, "I do, Christine. I will give you this happiness with all my heart. But my dear, for all our sakes and worries, do not visit the theater yet until we are known for it to be safe."

Christine felt herself quite tense but she, eventually, nodded in approval and gently kissed Raoul's cheek as a promise. He understood her message and gently kissed her lips as a response. They both sat together for a few moments and finally, Raoul escorted her back to her room so that she could rest early for her tomorrow's journey and bid her a sweet good night. He stood in front of her closed door for a few seconds and silently mumbled his _I Love Yous_ before he went back to the party downstairs.

* * *

Erik spent the whole week cleaning and fixing the cabin. He could almost feel the demon sleeping on top of his exhausted body while he laid on the couch. He still had not finished tidying up the upper floor. The lower floor almost took his life's strength away. He also realized that he still had not eaten much since this morning with just bread and cheese. He began to contemplate whether he should or not visit the nearest marketplace for food. He had enough coin he grabbed from the lair to fend for himself for the long time. Thank goodness, the mob never found his money underground or he would have to eat crumbs instead.

 _ **"Small little life of a wanderer. A descendant of Cain himself on this slightly dusty couch."**_ sang Erik as he sat on his seat and roamed his gaze around the parlor. _**"Small little life of a man with half of a face. Half happy, half sad. What am I to do?"**_ he stood and walked near the book shelves at the corner. He scanned the spines with his pale fingers and grabbed the last book of the row. He loved the smell of old books and its precious, unknown knowledge.

 _ **"In all of its wonders, I could smell the beauty of the world-"**_ but he saw a stain of dried blood on one of its pages and he was dismayed, _**"and its ugliness."**_ he angrily closed the book and threw it to his fireplace, watching it consume its pages. He sang a few more sad verses about his doom and finally, stopped when he rested on his seat, once again. How he missed Christine! He could almost feel his heart break piece by piece. After a few minutes of his silence, he finally succumbed to the heaviness of his tears. He tried his best to stop thinking about her by cleaning the house this morning and he realized it would not stop once he continued to sulk alone. His gaze diverted to the rope loosely hanged on the ceiling truss. He absently felt standing and reaching for its tip until he heard a knock at his door.

In instinct, he reached for his waist pocket and felt the fiber of his catgut string. He moved his way to the door and put his ear on it. "Who's there?" asked Erik while he tightly remained his hand on the string. For a few seconds of unknown silence, he shouted, "I asked who's there?!" then a small knock was finally heard.

"Forgive us, Monsieur. We know it's a little late but may we seek shelter just for tonight? My boy and I can't see anything under the night and it's a bit dangerous for us to continue further." said the stranger on the other side of the door. His voice sounded exhausted but Erik, as a man with fear of contact, hesitated to lift the knob.

Until he saw, from the corner of his eyes, a child's head trying to take a peak in his home through the window. Erik immediately hid the string to his pocket and met eyes with the little boy's. He was quite startled when the boy waved his little palm and smiled. Erik finally succumbed to one of his little weaknesses: children.

"Alright, Monsieur. Let me just fix-" he did not continue speaking but instead fixed some of the mess around the parlor with agitation before he slightly opened his door with uncertainty of who's outside. There stood on the front porch with quite a baggage with themselves: a small child and his mid-aged father.

Erik stared at the man's grayish eyes and realized something when he followed the man's gaze to his chest. He was blind and held a cane beside him. The child looked exhausted as well but his eyes showed otherwise. They looked like they just came from a far away village. Who would have the courage to travel even during this time of the night?

"Good Evening, Monsieur. I'm Charles Leroy and this is my son, Marius. We traveled from Dijon and we did not expect we would reach the 'wilderness' this time of the night and my boy was quite anxious." said the man between small chuckles that made the child smile widely. Erik met the boy's eyes and slightly smiled at him.

"Good Evening, Monsieurs. Please, uh, come in and make yourselves at home." invited Erik as he helped his new visitors with their baggage. Erik was still nervous of accommodating strangers during the night for the first time but he suddenly discovered his eagerness to show himself or rather, introduce himself to new people. He felt the urge to become the person he should be ever since he thought of that night.

Oh God, Christine had changed him. She would want him to be like this, simple and human. The compassion she gave him had greatly affected him and he knew he had to share it. But he had to admit, he was still fearful. The visitors sat on the couch while Erik prepared them tea. He sometimes took slight glances that made him absently smile. Even though the man was unfortunately blind, he could easily make his child laugh soundlessly. Wait, soundlessly?

Erik sat opposite them and laid down the tea tray on the coffee table. The little boy gave his father a cup and the three of them sipped their night tea and kept their silence for a few moments.

"So you're a new neighbor in the village, Monsieur?" asked the blind man while he sipped from his cup. Erik saw the forward curiosity from the boy's eyes as he noticed his gaze to his black mask. 

"D-Daae. Erik Daae. And how did you know I was new?" Christine's surname just slipped from his tongue. He hoped in his mind that Christine would forgive him for that one day. His childhood was plain black and white. His mother would not let him to be baptized with his late father's name all because of his face. It was just Erik. Nothing else.

"Well, the old scent of an abandoned house confirmed my thoughts. My senses of smell and touch are my strongest assets since my childhood, Monsieur Daae. May I ask where you're from?" spoke Monsieur Leroy confidently which made Erik took kindly. He nodded in understanding of his condition but he suddenly flinched to his question.

"Uhm, I lived within the busy streets of Paris. I was with an uncle of mine who is an innkeeper. But I decided it's time for me to wander by myself." lied Erik to the blind man. He need not know, Erik thought. The little boy, Marius made a bubble sound while he sipped his tea.

"Ho! Marius, don't play with your drink. It's not proper for our host." scolded Charles to young Marius. The boy just giggled silently and wrote something on his father's palm with his fingers. Erik got more intrigued to the father and son. A blind and a mute. How do they live by themselves?

"My boy said you had a pretty mask. Do you literally wear a mask, Monsieur?" asked Charles innocently. Of course, there would always be questions to ask, Erik thought. He could not blame a boy's innocent curiosity. But he could not tell most of the truth, as well.

"Yes. A black one covering most of my face. I had this ever since I was born." admitted Erik solemnly. He saw their faces changed in a more, serious mood. But Erik could not perceive it.

"A deformity, it seemed." stated Charles silently and the boy wrote on his father's palm again. "Yes, Like his." Then they both nodded in understanding. Even with his blindness, Charles stared directly at Erik's eyes as if he could see his two, brown eyes. Erik held the edge of his seat.

"I had another son you see, Monsieur Daae. But he died two days before he was born and their mother's death. His deformity was the cause. Marius had spent the days looking at his brother's face until he rested." When Charles stopped speaking, Erik felt sympathy for them. The boy's face was wet with his tears. Another lost soul condemned of a heartless punishment. Erik felt such woe but he could not be grateful that he was lucky to have lived instead. He could not, for he had lost more than a life.

"What did he look like?" asked Erik.

Marius tried to see if Erik could understand him so he used the sign language to him. Erik was fortunate to had studied some of it before. According to Marius, his skin was yellow and he looked like a living corpse. With white pupils, deep undereyes and a hole where his nose should have been. "But the boy was bubbly and cooed like ordinary children of their age. We both loved him. Until his health began to deteriorate and the doctor said there was too much infection he had gained."

Erik sat there for a few moments after their story had ended. Then he spoke, "If I had died like him, no one would actually care like you both did to your baby." This shocked Charles and his son. Erik did not have to tell but he felt he owed them a story back. "The boy did not suffer and that's quite beneficial. I suffered with my mother's loathing words, my anomaly, my master's whip and my heart's _loss."_ stated Erik, never minded the cruelty of his words. If this would be a way to heal himself, this would be its start.

The Leroys both sighed, "Sometimes life is an unfair challenge. It depends if you love the thrill of it or not. But there will always be someone who wins or lose, or say, _I give up!"_

"My son won, Monsieur. He was able to feel our love before he went to heaven. But you, you are still fighting to the end. So it's three choices for you, then." After that, Erik escorted them to the guest room and let them rest for the night. Erik laid on his bed and thought of the man had said. Erik kept on fighting the fight. Survived the horrors of his childhood and from his masters. If he would give up, this would not be told as it should be. But had he already lost? Lost Christine and his music?

No, Not yet. It was all unfinished. The song she sang had not yet been sang back. He longed for Christine and her voice. If Erik would _heal_ and fight on, he had to start with her. If she would have him.

Erik tiredly removed his mask and slept the entire night, grasping it. 


	6. Unexpected Reunions

**Unexpected Reunions**

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Raoul looked out from their door after Christine's carriage brought her back to the busy streets of Paris. How he missed his Christine and her embraces already. He started to feel the same worry he always had ever since that night happened. It was not easy for Raoul to let Christine go. But he needed to trust her. He should trust her for that would be the only thing Christine was expecting of him. He turned his back and distracted himself with his work once again.

Christine reverted her gaze forward after she stared from the dwindling view of the estate. She finally exhaled with relief and she felt herself smile of excitement. It has only been a week ever since she last saw of her adopted family and she needed to see them to explain everything. The travel felt too slow for Christine because of her enthusiasm that she could not even bear to sleep during the whole ride. For Christine, this was just the last act of her freedom so she had to relish it as much as possible. She had to show to everyone what she needed to say and what she wanted to do for them.

Her heart was suddenly beating with agitation. She also needed to talk to him and if ever, she would say goodbye to him for one last time. But where would she find him if not the opera house? "No, I promised Raoul. I cannot." she thought to herself. The Opera Populaire still contained the memories of that night so it would not be such a good idea to go back just yet. Christine looked out through her window for the rest of her journey.

When a knock sounded from the carriage door, Christine realized she had slept anyway. She looked out through her window again and finally savored the sight. She was here. The driver helped her out of the vehicle and when she was about to pay, he informed her that the Vicomte had already payed and tipped him for the ride. She nodded to this and said her thanks.

She stared at the home of the Girys for a few moments before she finally knocked with zest. She heard two clicks before Meg Giry widely opened the door. Both of them stared wide eyed and squealed at each other with harmonized happiness. Christine embraced Meg tightly and swayed their bodies in motion. "Oh, Meg! I missed you so much even for just a short time I was gone." said Christine lovingly to her best friend.

"Christine! I missed you too! We were so worried about you. The Vicomte did not say anything much when he claimed for your things last week." replied Meg with furrowed brows. Christine completely understood her frets. After all, that was her reason for going back. Meg pulled Christine inside the house and immediately called for Madame Giry from upstairs. When the elder Giry went downstairs with her walking cane, her dark eyes widened for a split second before she heartily embraced her adopted daughter. 

"My dear, how we missed you very much. Come and sit, rest your feet. I will bring you some refreshments." Madame Giry went straight to the kitchen to prepare tea for Christine. At the parlor, Meg held Christine's cold hands and faced her for an expected conversation.

"Alright, Christine. How long are you going to stay here? If it's for a shorter time, you better start now." said Meg jokingly without blinking an eye. Christine just chuckled at her reaction. Madame Giry sat opposite them with a tea tray and a plate of bread and cheese. The Girys solely focused their gazes upon Christine.

"If I may, I would like to spend a week here with you both before I get married next week." said Christine with clasped hands. She felt relieved when the both of them smiled widely. "Oh Christine! Of course you may stay here as long as you like. And are we invited to the wedding?" asked Meg as she grasped on her teacup. Christine tensed at her question. Raoul was the one who planned who comes and goes and she had not asked him about the invitations yet.

"O-Of course! Why not? Anyway, It's not much and I just want it done." Christine tried to divert their attention to the original topic instead. "So, I know I owe you both of what happened and I wanted to at least assure you first that I am well and Raoul's been a very kind host to me." She reached for her own teacup and blew the smoke away.

"After he... He brought me to his home beneath the opera house, he proposed a lifetime commitment with me, which was quite a dominant request. I tried to calm him down but things kind of got worse when Raoul came..." Christine started the story about the events after Don Juan Triumphant. But she felt unsatisfied with the words she conveyed. If she was to be honest, she had not fully absorbed the reality of what had happened. She tried her best to explain properly until she concluded, "We just had our engagement party yesterday and Meg, how I only wish you were there to defend me." Christine ended her story with a smile. Although, Meg stared at her mother as if they tried to pass each other a message.

"Well, my dear. Pity those women for their husbands were not useful to them. What about the Phantom?" Madame Giry eyed the young soprano with curiosity of her reaction about the former Opera Ghost while Meg stared at her once again. Christine let out a sigh and slumped her shoulders. There came another question in Christine's mind. Did she also owe an explanation to him?

"I don't know, Madame. I wanted to see the theater but I promised Raoul I would not." Christine sipped the last of her tea and brought the cup back on the tray. She began to think of that one problem again. She wanted to see him for the last time, that would be so sure. Although, she did not know how and why. As compassionate as she could be, Meg and most people thought of it as a form of naivety, which someday would bring her ruin. But even though her compassion was one of her best qualities, she could not deny that there was _guilt_ when she left a broken man alone to deal with the mob. Was he still alive? Her heart hoped he still was or she would forever suffer with her guilt, alone.

She did not want to alarm Meg and her mother more about the Phantom so she tried to change the subject, "What has been of the theater?" asked Christine solemnly to Madame Giry. The elder lady sat comfortably and laid down her empty teacup.

"Well, after the night of the opera, a lot of the audience asked for a return of money and the managers had no choice but to refund a full house. Most of the budget that were used for the production were lost. Also, The Signora immediately left for Italy after the... accident. So the Opera Populaire will be opening auditions for a new soprano and tenor. Unless of course, if you come back." Madame Giry also added that she and Meg would not be working this month until all things were fixed. Christine listened to the rest of the story intently.

"What about you, Christine? Will you still sing?" asked Meg. Christine only breathed a sigh. Her confrontation with Raoul about her singing was still unclear. But even if Raoul would change heart, the high society would be merciless. If she would become a Vicomtess, they would not let her sing a single note or even be affiliated with the opera personnel. Everything would be grand and new, which was dismaying. Christine would be lost without her family.

"I don't know, Meg. But the possibility is slim. I will be part of royalty if I were to marry Raoul." replied Christine melancholically. Meg understood Christine's slight distress. The high society rejected the idea of working for upperclasswomen. But Meg thought it would be easier if that were to be the path Christine would choose. A wonderful life with the Vicomte De Chagny. Christine saw her meaning through her eyes and could only gaze down.

"I want to sing, Meg. I do not want my career to be short-lived but... I love Raoul." muttered Christine. Meg could not do anything but to embrace Christine and try to ease her troubles. Madame Giry watched her girls together and even her slight stiff heart softened to the sight. She did noticed Christine's discomfort when they tried to bring up the Phantom in the conversation, which Madame Giry understood. But there was something in her eyes that the Madame could not point a finger to.

The three women spent their morning catching up with each other until Madame Giry left them for a while to prepare their lunch at the kitchen. Eventually, Meg and Christine grew restless on their seats and decided to help Madame Giry with preparing. They proceeded their conversations as though there was no tomorrow.

"Stop making me laugh so hard, Meg! I will just fix myself in the washroom." said Christine as she ran straight to the corner room, chuckling by herself. When the Girys saw the door closed, Meg abruptly turned her head to her mother and narrowed her eyes.

"Are we going to tell Christine about Monsieur Le Phantom?" asked Meg curiously. Madame Giry shook her head and held her daughter's hand.

"Do not tell her anything yet, Meg. It will be a dangerous journey for her. It is better that both of them live in peace." replied the elder Giry and she distanced herself away from their dining room to cook for their lunch. But Meg followed her mother to remark another word.

"But she seemed so eager to see him! She only wanted to say a proper goodbye." Before Meg could continue, her mother added; "Let her ask then, Meg. But if she ever tried to ask where he is, convince her otherwise." Both of them stopped talking when Christine entered back in the kitchen. Her chocolate curls now scattered around her shoulders and her cheeks showed color. 

The ladies continued their preparing and finally, the early afternoon came. Christine sat in front of her adopted family with their newly cooked fish and shrimp on the dining table. She would often make fun of the upper class etiquette which made Meg laugh her heart out. "You will do that more often, though. I'm laughing at you right now!" teased Meg.

Christine teased Meg back by throwing a bitten piece of fried potato on her plate. Both of them suddenly made a mess out of their food fight until Madame Giry had to cease them both by striking her cane to the wooden floor. As usual, the two girls stopped with snorting laughter. How Christine would miss this life soon. However, all sacrifices had to be taken for love, she thought.

They finished their lunch and Christine insisted she helped out her adopted mother of the dishes. The elder woman allowed her heartily while Meg insisted back on fixing the quarters for Christine.

"Will I be able to be a good wife for Raoul?" asked Christine to the Madame solemnly. Christine started to think of questions she needed to ask for the last time. She had been doubtful and nervous of herself. There was no one in the world who knew what she should do or where she should be but Madame Giry and her _angel._ They experienced some of life's usual offers which Christine was now anxious for.

Madame Giry wiped her wet hands and cupped Christine's cheeks gently, "Never doubt yourself, child. You are a wonderful and a benevolent young woman and the Vicomte fell in love with the right one." remarked Madame Giry with pride while she stared her sincere dark eyes to Christine's green ones. But she suddenly doubted her words when Christine furrowed her brows down and her eyes gazed down at the floor.

"He did, too. Yet I left him in the dark. I'm a cruel maiden." mumbled Christine as she proceeded to wash the remaining utensils. All that the Madame could do was to sigh. She observed the young woman with worry. Ever since the Phantom killed his first victim in the opera house, Christine was not as happy as she was before her first meeting with her angel of music occurred. Every morning before their rehearsals, Christine would always wear a smile on her face or most of the time, she would hum random melodies by herself. Those were the times when Madame Giry finally realized that they both had heard each other.

But she was quite infuriated with the Phantom's decision to hide his identity and pretend as Christine's fairy tale figure. After those decent moments, everything just went disastrous. The Phantom's obsession and madness were too much for her to handle against him; therefore, she became afraid for Christine and also, for her and Meg. That was why she was too hesitant to help him away if it were not for his sincerity of his promise. But she knew he was trying. Trying for _her._

"My dear, a lot has happened. I do not know how to answer your questions about him. But I do know that he is a man just like the rest of us. Yet he does not know how because he is still afraid just like you." remarked Madame Giry before she asked Christine to help Meg upstairs. She watched the poor girl carry her skirt as she went upstairs. Madame Giry felt so torn with her thoughts.

Christine found Meg stretching her legs against the railing. She smiled at her as she observed her do her warm ups. "I definitely miss dancing, you know." said Christine as Meg tiredly laid her back against the bed. Christine sat on the edge of her former bed. They remained still for a few moments until Meg sat abruptly on the edge of her bed in front of Christine. She reached for the drawer of her side table and grabbed a red, leathered book tied around with a gold string. Christine widened her eyes as she immediately recognized the item on Meg's hand.

"You had his music sheets of Don Juan Triumphant! Meg, how?!" spoke Christine loudly and Meg hushed her back. She willingly gave the composition to her best friend, which Christine reluctantly received.

"It is the original copy he gave to the managers during the Masquerade Ball. I kind of stole it from their office last week when I heard their plan of disposing it." explained Meg as she clasped her moist hands on her lap. Christine only shook her head with a smile on her face. She could not believe Meg can be such a cunning little lady sometimes. She scanned the leather of his life's work. His musical oeuvre.

"You can read it, you know. If you want to understand the rest of what should have happened." Meg smiled as she stared at Christine with curiosity. Christine thought of her proposal but she only smiled faintly. She hesitated to open the composition for she knew that the best way to discover the beauty of the opera was through the composer's eyes.

"Meg, Is there something I should know?" asked Christine as she finally stared at Meg's eyes. She noticed her friend slump her shoulders with surrender. Christine had to know. She needed to know.

"If I tell you the truth, are you still going to proceed with your plan?" Meg scooted more further near her best friend, expecting the right reply. Christine gazed between at the book and at Meg for a few moments until she lifted her head with conviction.

"Yes." she finally replied. Meg did nothing but to sigh and held on Christine's cold hands. Then she spoke, "Alright, I'll tell you, Christine. But only promise me that whatever you planned to do with him would be beneficial for the both of you or Mama will have my head." Christine only nodded at her with assurance. She also added that it would be the last time she would ever see him again.

"Fine. I'll tell you on nighttime, though. I do not want to tell a story with an empty stomach." With that, Meg laid on her bed and asked Christine to sing for her. Christine put the book on her bedside and started to sing little melodies to her best friend.

It was almost early evening when Meg fell asleep on her bed while Christine remained awake and chose to read another book she borrowed from Raoul's library. But while her eyes scanned the written words, her mind grew more restless and bothered.

"Christine! Meg! Dinner's ready!" announced Madame Giry from downstairs. Christine excitingly stretched her arms and legs and hopped from her bed. She shook Meg's shoulder to wake her up but as usual, Meg was a heavy sleeper. Christine had to hit her head with a pillow twice.

"Slow your eating, Christine! No one's going to pick your pasta!" scolded Meg when she noticed Christine voraciously ate her dinner. They both only giggled when Madame Giry rolled her eyes to her daughters. Meg had already recognized the sudden zest of her best friend. She knew she was eager to set things right with the Phantom.

After dinner, the three of them chatted for a little while before Christine hurriedly went upstairs to retire 'early' and she whispered to Meg's ear, "I'll wait for you." Meg only shook her head with resignation. Meg was relieved that her mother had not found out of their little plan yet.

"Start from the beginning, dearest Meg." remarked Christine when she finally noticed Meg stepped in the room. Meg hurriedly turned down the gas from the lamps and made a makeshift tent of blankets. Both of them entered and held a small lamp between their laps.

"Well, before the mob could reach the lair, I found his porcelain mask and hid it for, uhm, safekeeping." started Meg when she recalled the first time she had stepped in the Phantom's lair. She also added some details about how she managed to snatch the Don Juan Triumphant and also, "I got really intrigued, Christine. I sneaked into your dressing room and managed to discover another entrance to the underground."

Christine could not feel anything but shock and dismay on Meg's sudden peculiarity. But Meg continued, "I saw him there. A strange man, indeed and his deformity kind of oscillated me to the gut." She added more about their first meeting and how he looked exhausted that time. Christine began to feel worried and her perturbed mind could only do but add weight on her being.

 _ **"A lonely man with a spite of hopelessness! A man full of love and hate! Pity and benevolence were all the things we could offer but his melanholic thanks was too much to bear!"**_ sang Meg Giry abruptly.

 _ **"Oh, dear Meg and Madame! Feel joy for you both had good hearts! Oh God how I prayed all night that even I could not sleep."**_ sang Christine back. She spoke only of her truth. She felt, indeed, dread of her teacher. But she also felt the guilt crashing her soul. For she knew, he did not deserve this punishment.

"I'm frightened for him, Meg. I thought I kissed his lips, only for him to die." Before Christine could realize what just slipped out from her mouth, Meg loudly gasped.

 _ **"Now tell me what's the story! How come I did not know this from the beginning."**_ Meg shook her friend's shoulders but Christine could only do was stutter her words.

"W-Well, I did k-kissed him... Twice." Christine furrowed her brows down when Meg gaped and stared at her with absolute surprise of the revelation. "B-But I do not know of my purpose unless I speak to him about it. I cannot tell you much of it yet." Christine slumped her shoulders.

Meg was still petrified on her seat when her friend revealed that shocking secret to her. A man with a face like his could only make you divert your eyes rather than look more than near. She realized that Christine was not only kind but brave, as well.

"Please, Meg. Tell me more of what you know." said Christine after both of them kept their own silence. Meg could only surrender, "I have to do this."

Meg went out from their tent and reached for her side table once again. When she entered back, Meg laid a map on Christine's palms. "It's a map to the town village of Provins. It's almost an hour travel from here with a train but a few more if you travel by foot. If you reached this side of the village, there is a secluded path that you can't hail a cab for. You will have to walk until you notice a lone cabin with a red, gambrel roof." explained Meg as she encircled the sign of the cabin with red ink. "That's where he currently resides if he managed to follow our directions."

Christine stared back at Meg with a glint of gratefulness in her eyes. She immediately hid the map in her satchel and embraced her friend tightly. "Thank you, Meg. I definitely owe you." Meg reciprocated her embrace. After a few more hours of wistful conversations, the girls laid on their soft beds and hoped for plans of their tomorrows.

* * *

It was almost ten o' clock in the morning when little Marius stepped out of the guest bedroom. He went straight to the washroom to wash his face and was supposed to go down for a glass of water when suddenly in the corner of his eye, he noticed the door in the master bedroom slightly open when he passed by the hallway. The boy's curiosity suddenly emerged.

Marius slowly moved the door and he finally let his round, blue eyes feast on the sight that he discovered from the other side of the door. Erik was still asleep on his bed, his deformity unconsciously exposed to the boy's direction while on one hand. there laid his black mask.

Marius widened his eyes at his face but his small feet absently approached Erik's exhausted state. He carefully observed Erik's right cheek with a serious eye. Stretched, crumpled flesh, bloated upper lip and browless. It was disheartening for Marius to see and he felt the same desolation he had when he saw his little brother's face for the first time. _Every man's face is the art of their story._

The boy also noticed the hesitance and dread of the man last night and his father could even sense it with the way he spoke. A man with a melodic voice and how he sometimes stutter with no reason. Marius was observant enough when he concluded all these things.

Marius abruptly jolted out of his trance when Erik opened his eyes and saw him back. Before the boy could even react, Erik tightly grabbed his arm and pulled him near his face, "Like what you see, boy?! Do you want to have my face haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life?!" yelled Erik as he pulled him out of his bedroom and forcefully walked him downstairs. Marius' eyes were now teary when he felt his arm aching in Erik's left hand. When they got down to the parlor, Erik pushed him on the floor and yelled, "That's right, boy! Cry your eyes out until you can no longer see this monstrosity! Your curiosity will be the death of you!"

The boy stared at Erik's face with a blur. His skin was fuming red that emphasized his deformity even more, his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed. Marius became frightened of his anger that he consciously searched for the softness of his brown eyes. He was sobbing soundlessly and at the same time, Erik's exhaustion got the better of him once again. He held at the boy's collar while he slowly knelt in front of him. _**"All of you are so merciless! Have you no remorse?!"**_

"Please let go of my son, Monsieur Daae." a voice from the stairs woke Erik from his weariness. Charles stood behind Erik with his confident stature and straight gaze. "He is just a boy." he added.

"Even a boy will grow into a man. His slyness starts with it!" Erik held Marius' collar a bit more tight and the boy winced. Charles walked near further behind Erik. Marius remained his gaze at Erik's eyes while his tears had shed from his little orbs.

"Monsieur Daae, I am blind and cannot see what your face looks like. But I assure you, I know a way that may help you see the true essence of your soul. Then describe to me what it looks like." said Charles solemnly as he put his hand on Erik's tense shoulder.

"H-How?" asked Erik, slightly gazed upon Charles, behind him.

 _ **"Stare at the depths of my son's eyes for a child's sight does not lie."**_ sang Charles before he let go of Erik's shoulder. Erik slowly stared back at Marius' deep, blue eyes. They both shone bright with his tears and Erik almost noticed his own reflection through the pupils. Marius had finally calmed from crying when Erik had suddenly whimpered and loosely let go of the boy's collar. He could only lift his hand in surrender and mercy in front of Marius.

 _ **"Please forgive this suffering fool. He meant no harm for he was still a scared child of God. P-Please I beg for your mercy..."**_ Erik bowed down his head near his lap and enclosed his body with his arms as though he was expecting a master's whip.

 _ **"Forgive me, Christine..."**_ Marius heard a small whisper of song from Erik as he looked at his trembling shoulders. He looked at his father for permission and as though he felt his son's presence, he nodded back in acceptance. Before Erik could anticipate, a small hand rubbed his quivering back. He twitched to the sudden contact but embraced the warmth that it gave. Erik's body relaxed when Marius wrote something on his back with his fingers: _It's okay._

Erik slowly lifted his head and saw the sincere, wet smile of the boy. He caressed the boy's hand on his back and inclined his head assuringly.

 _ **"Stand and look forward, Still your shoulders and swim through the waters of compassion. The world would not be cruel if you learn to be kind. If a man throws you a rock, throw him with a song of your spirit! Conquer the walls of your enemies and defeat them with your light!"**_ As Charles had finished his song, Erik stood and fixed his appearance for a few moments. He helped Marius stand from the ground and gently patted his head. To Erik's delight, the boy wiped his tears and smiled wide at him.

"You must be hungry. Pardon my mess, I shall prepare some breakfast for you before you leave." Charles sensed the same confident tone of his voice that he recognized from last night. He was fine now. Marius held his hand and guided him to the dining area. Erik took a glance at his visitors. Just like any other child, Marius returned to his usual self; giggling under his father's tickles. For the first time in Erik's life, he felt safe and confident with new company. While the three of them ate their breakfast, the father and son tried to encourage Erik to open up more about his life and assured him that sharing was a start of his healing.

"Pray tell us about this lady you fancy." asked Charles while he pinched from his baguette. Erik could only smile and shyly shook his head. Erik managed to tell some details about Christine and he felt his face warm with embarassment.

"I know a man when he's in love. So dramatic! Like Marius here when he once met a little lass." Charles laughed at Marius, who could only narrow his eyes. Erik continued his story with an emphasized tone of fascination in his voice. The father and son listened wholeheartedly to his progress about his love for 'Christine Daae.' Although, Erik prevented on revealing them her real name, for he was still a wanted man. 

Erik stood on the front porch clutching his waistcoat quite nervously while he watched the Leroys walked down from his cabin. "I live just within the neighborhood, Monsieur. We shall visit each other soon if you need company." said Charles with a wide smile while he held for his cane and Marius' hand on the other.

"Indeed, we shall. I... Thank you for your kindness." replied Erik faintly.

"Likewise, Monsieur Daae. We will see you again soon or maybe later." As Charles bid his farewell, Marius shook hands with Erik and hand signed his little goodbye.

When the Leroys had finally walked away from the seclusion. Erik breathed a sigh and went inside the cabin.

* * *

Christine occupied her remaining time knitting scarfs for the Girys. Meg observed her friend and braced for the time they were expecting. They both tried their best to hide their plan from Madame Giry.

Meg bumped on Christine's shoulder, "You really sure? You will reach there so late, just so you know. It's quite dangerous." whispered Meg to Christine's ear.

"I know, Meg. But I am sure now and I will not be easily followed if I travel on this time, in case." Christine only thought of the possibility that some of Raoul's contacts might follow her. It was not a sort of danger of their trust with each other but Christine had to remain vigilant for her and for her teacher's safety.

"Oh, Fine! But whatever happens, you run!" Meg edgingly chuckled that made Christine shake her head. Not one bit had Christine thought of the danger she would be getting into or any remorse with her decisions. She had to do this and she needed to do this.

Christine and Meg decided to go to the marketplace on late afternoon and with anticipation, Christine carried her satchel which contained some money and the Phantom's opus. Christine informed her that she would be back the day after and with a temporary goodbye, she rode a cab to the train station to Provins and; suddenly, the weight in her heart began to feel like a burden to her. _Here it goes._

Erik remained on his reclining chair with a book on his hands. For some reason, he could not sleep even after he spent the whole day tidying up the rest of the rooms on the upper floor. But also, he did not want to sleep at all. Ever since the Leroys left his porch this morning, he became more cautious and fearful for himself.

He tried to recall his life beneath the opera house but his visions were only flooded with Christine's distressed face. Then he saw Marius' wet eyes. They both had the same look of panic when they saw his face for the first time. Their gazes looked through his brown irises as though even with his enraged face, they sought the same security from within the softness of his eyes. They both did not recoil nor look away, but only looked straight upon his soul to save them from his rage. _He will burn you from the heat of his eyes_ was his own statement about his existence. A lie within a truth.

It was almost midnight when Erik noticed the fire from the furnace slightly fading and the room darkened. He went upstairs and carried an empty sack from the attic. He glanced outside the window to search for his woodpile and found it under the porch railings.

Before he could lift the knob of the cabin door, with a sack under his arm; a faint knock was suddenly heard from the other side of the door. Erik flinched and just like before, he reached for his string once again. "Who's there?" Erik got more irritated when there was no response. _Not this again,_ Erik thought.

"I asked who is there?!" yelled Erik with a tight fist around his string. After a few moments, he heard a small voice that made his soul quiver with an unstoppable force. Oh, how he waited for this powerful phenomena in his life! He immediately lifted the knob and opened the door with agitation. His brown eyes sought the green ones in front of him.

 _ **"Angel..."**_.


	7. The Taste of Reality

**The Taste of Reality**

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When Meg stepped inside their home, she was welcomed by her mother's stoic eyes. Meg could only do but gulp and stare back at her eyes. It was almost seven in the evening when Meg came back home without Christine with her side. She knew she had no choice but to explain everything that had been planned and done to her mother.

"Meg Giry. Explain to me why have you come home late and Christine was not clinging on your arm?" asked Madame Giry sternly. She put her hands on both sides of her hips as though she was a wicked witch from the fairy tales. Meg immediately sat on their divan and breathed a defeated sigh. She figured it out as much that her mother would eventually demand an answer from her.

"Mother, please don't be angry with me. I only gave in to Christine's wishes." Meg started off with trying to calm her mother's nerves. She wanted her mother not to overreact on what she was about to reveal. Madame Giry sat beside her daughter on the divan and nodded for her to continue.

"Last night, I told her about us having aided the Phantom last week. I thought she merely wanted to know these things but she had already planned to see him and make amends, anyway." told Meg gently to her mother. Madame suspected it would eventually come to this. But somehow, she knew Christine was a free spirited soul and she would have to end this nightmare by herself, even if returning back to the lion's den. As for the Phantom, she was quite reluctant but she knew he would not hurt her. He was a man with a wicked past but he could not touch the woman he so loved than his life. She could only hope that no one would know of this plan except she and her daughter.

"I suspected so, Meg. We could not stop her and I am sure he would not harm her, I hope. Did she tell you how long she will stay with him?" asked Madame Giry while she clutched on her daughter's fingers. Meg replied to her that Christine planned not to stay long but short enough to be able to confront her demons.

"Alright. You will have to expect her in town tomorrow afternoon. Let us hope for the better." Madame Giry kissed her daughter good night and proceeded to retire for the night. While in her room, she grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and started to write a letter for the only person close with _him._

* * *

Erik could not believe his eyes. She looked more beautiful than he had seen her the last time. Her emerald eyes shone under the dark and her cheeks flushed, mixing with the light of the fire. Her brown curls were spread around her bare shoulders. Her pink lips were slightly parted and her chest heaved rapidly. She wore a royal blue colored gown with florals traced around the skirt and thin sleeves around her arms. She had already discarded her cloak hanged on her forearm that made her entire being so exquisite under the moonlight.

He almost felt drowsy and Erik immediately thought he was just asleep on his chair and was dreaming. He let go of the knob and backed away from the entrance. "No, This is impossible. I must be seeing things." he faintly muttered under his breath and shook his head panically. 

Christine felt bad for making her angel doubt her existence. As she saw his head shook fearfully, she slowly stepped forward and smiled at him weepingly. _ **"Angel of Music, Fear no longer. Come to me, strange angel."**_ She stopped and maintained a respectable distance between them.

Erik choked a sob when he heard Christine sang to him softly. How he missed her voice so much. He felt his legs weaken as he knelt in front of her in surrender. He could not stop his tears from shedding out of his eyes as he stared at Christine's. _**"My dear, why have you come back? Why have you come to see this monster in his cave?"**_ sang Erik softly between his sobs.

Christine knelt down and closed the distance between them. She held his pale, trembling hands and rubbed them. She remembered how cold these hands were once when she first put her lips on both of them that night. To calm him, she kissed them once again which made her angel breathingly sobbed more with the sudden affection.

 _ **"Your song in my dreams had found you here. Your eyes that shine. And if I had to cross a thousand seas, the Phantom of the Opera will be here. Inside my mind."**_ she sang back with combined softness and vigilance. As she stared at Erik's full donned mask, his hands along with hers were lifted slowly to his lips. She felt the sudden cold from his breath and slightly shuddered. She tried to call his notice again.

"I'm no angel, my dear Christine. Please, no more." he muttered between choked sobs. They both remained on the ground with bowed heads until Erik stood and pulled Christine along with him gently. Christine noticed how he tried to fix himself like he once did before she gave back his ring. She found the cold metal encircled around his finger once again.

 _ **"Then what shall I call you, Monsieur."**_ If she could not call him her angel of music, she would not dare resort to the Opera Ghost, indeed.

"Does it matter, my dear?' he asked with a hint of hopelessness. He offered Christine a seat and immediately walked to the kitchen to make her tea and also, to try to distract himself away from her.

"Of course, Monsieur. All men had one, even angels from the church had one." replied Christine innocently although, the Phantom understood it as persuasion. She was right, anyway. Even how abhorrent his face was, he had no choice but to wear his name. He looked back to Christine, who was waiting patiently, with a sincere side smile.

"If it will please you, Christine. You may call me Erik." said Erik with assurance from his eyes. He stared down again to his teabags and laid them in their cups. He prepared them on the wooden tray with a pot of sugar and lemon slices.

Christine tried to mutter _Erik_ with her mouth repeatedly and loved how it sounded with her voice. His name was simple than she exceedingly expected but it also fascinated its peculiarity from the man in front of her. Atleast it was better than the Phantom, Opera Ghost or any other moniker he called himself. If anything else, the name made him a man through her eyes.

"It's scandinavian. Are you-" before she could continue, Erik replied while he set down the tray on the center table.

"No, I was born in Paris, still. My name was only a matter of... convenience." With a slight gentleness, it made Christine nod as it slightly broke her heart. _A mother's fear and loathing;_ she remembered, as bright as day. If a mother could hate like that, could naming a child felt no better? She only shook her head, angrily inside her mind.

Erik watched Christine as she put almost three spoons full of sugar in her tea, which made him cringe as usual. He would, sometimes, watch her prepare her own tea with a bunch of sugar back at the opera house and it would make him palm his face. 

"You used... a lot of sugar, again." said Erik seriously. She gazed at him and chuckled.

"You used a lot of lemon, though." Christine commented. Erik noticed the few slices of his lemon already used and they both laughed at their own sights. Erik was the first one to stop while he stirred his own tea. Christine could only do but sit in silence. How she missed laughing with her angel of music. He would always comment about her exceedingly usage of sugar in her tea back then but they would eventually tease each other until he would change his tone to prepare her for their voice lessons. She sighed.

But now, she stared at the man in front of her. The man who once haunted her, stalked her, deceived her and threatened her. She was frightened of him that night, when he looked deranged and unstable. His velvet voice boomed around the lair and his cold skin gripped around her neck and wrists. But a man such as him could only do but surrender at her feet when he let her go. She was angry at him but yes, she loved her angel. The one who never left her side when she cried for her father, who comforted her when she had bad dreams. The six months he was gone before the Masquerade Ball frustrated her and Christine remembered how she prayed for the angel she once knew to visit her and sing her lullabies.

Christine had to accept the fact that there was no such angel from the sky, but a fallen on named Erik. She stared at him mesmerizingly. Erik wore his usual black clothing but what caught Christine's attention was the black mask he wore. It covered most of his face except his eyes and mouth. The mask shone against the light of the fire which made him quite intimidating.

Erik noticed how he was being observed silently by Christine. But it surprised him that she stared at him with awe. He easily got uncomfortable and he loudly cleared his throat.

"F-Forgive my silence, Christine. May I ask how is your life outside the opera house?" he casually sat on his chair and sipped his tea. His eyes defined more like it did that night. _Christine, I love you._

She brushed away the memory and composed herself on her seat, "Things got a little better this last week. I... planned to stay with the Girys this whole week before I-" _marry Raoul the week after._ She stopped herself from continuing but with the look from his eyes, he already anticipated what she was supposed to say.

"I'm glad for you, my dear Christine. Your happiness is what matters to me now. I am sure all will be well." remarked Erik confidently which made Christine smile in return.

Erik knew that she was to be wed with the Vicomte next week. Gossip spread around the town like wildfire and it made Erik feel completely hopeless than before. He had pushed Christine away with his rage but he pushed her away more to free her. The Vicomte would be the right man for her, for he could give her everything that she deserved which Erik could not. He loved her, not since she sang for him every night. No, he loved her when she kissed him and broke his walls. She had given him a heart full of love.

He knew that he did not _love_ her back then when he deceived and threatened her. How could a man hurt the woman he loved, anyway? Erik realized it was obsession, not love. Anger and jealousy, not love. Pity, not love. But his Christine showed him how and it dawned on him when she gave him back his ring. _Christine, I love you._

"What about you, Monsieur Erik? How are you?" Christine hoped that her teacher settled in comfortably. By the looks of it, his home was now well furnished and homey; and it surprised Christine. It looked a bit dark like his old home but it looked like any other houses around Paris. She noticed the timid smile from his lips as he sipped from his cup.

"I-uhm, well, simply. I just finished improving this cabin to its formal glory. Actually, I had two guests who visited here a while ago. They were... fine people, indeed." told Erik with a mix of excitement and confidence. It fascinated Christine and she remembered the same voice he had when he once told her fairy tales of the night. Somehow, she was glad he was trying.

"Really? Please tell me about them." Christine wanted to encourage to talk more like before and it seemed Erik was more than willing to chat. Erik did not care anymore of his usual stoicism and he would just want to indulge himself in conversations with Christine until she would be gone forever.

He told her about the Leroys and what they conversed about just this morning. He also expressed his fondness with children which made Christine laugh between his words. Dear God, please do not let this end just yet. Their walls were completely down on the ground and both of them felt that they were back at both sides of the dressing room mirror. 

Christine also noticed how he, sometimes, clutch his ring finger nervously or his pale fingers twitch as usual. She could tell he was still tense but trying to ease himself. She saw the shine of his onyx ring and quickly remembered the time before she offered it back to him. She once held on to it as though she wanted it with her forever for it was the only thing she had of him. But she had to let it go the same like he did for her.

"Christine, is there something wrong?" asked Erik anxiously. Christine realized that she had not been listening to him and just stared at him blindly. She immediately felt bad for leaving him on the edge.

"No! Forgive me, Monsieur. I was quite distracted. But I thank you for sharing your stories with me." she replied in instinct. Erik only nodded and sipped the remaining from his cup. They both sat again in silence beside the flickering fire of the furnace.

Christine remembered her initial plan and the reason why she went back to him for the last time. She set down her cup on the tray and straightened her back against the backrest of her seat.

"I came here because... If you may, I would like to ask my teacher some advice." the tone of her voice reminded Erik of the times when she would ask him innocent questions. It felt strange for him to be back. He smiled to her sincerely.

"Anything, child." replied Erik kindly as he scooted his seat near Christine. He heard Christine exhaled deeply and knew this would be a delicate discussion. He had to prepare himself from her lashings.

"I... I still have the desire to sing again. But my voice is somehow... failing me after that night. But... I want to sing." she might sound like a child persisting what she wanted but Erik understood her more than anyone. It was her dream to sing on the stage since the beginning and he almost took it from her. But the fact that she still wanted to pursue for the world made his heart flutter.

"Then you shall sing, my dear. Your voice is a gift from God and it must bless the world." replied Erik with passion. He meant it and it satisfied Christine. But her face suddenly went down.

"That is... the thing but... Raoul would not want it." remarked Christine hesitantly as she stared once again to her angel's eyes.

But Christine felt cold when Erik's brown eyes suddenly lit brighter against the fire, quickly realized he was now irritated. "How dare he dictate you to stop singing?!" All of the sudden, his temper finally occupied his thoughts from the mere mention of the Vicomte's name and he abruptly stood from his seat. It was true that the Vicomte was good for Christine but he could not fathom why he would stop her from the only thing that once reunited them.

Christine was startled from his reaction and she tried her best to contain her bubbling fear. But she also anticipated his temper. Of course, he would be mad with Raoul, she thought. "He did not dictate me, I know he just wanted me to be safe. You know how their society will think." said Christine with an exasperated tone.

"But you are letting them, Christine! You are letting them take you for granted! I thought I taught you well enough. I would not accept this for you!" his voice boomed quite louder and that made Christine more aggravated. She could not let this man tell her what to do anymore.

"This was not my fault in the first place! If you had not put me on the pedestal, this would not have happen. I had no choice. And I could not just let you judge me at my face!" Christine fought back with the same tone of his voice and it halted Erik slightly.

"So what?! That's it?! You might as well be a _high regarded_ woman, gossiping from the snickers of other women? This is not what I imagined you to be!" Before Erik could speak more, Christine bolted away from her seat and continued to speak for herself.

"If you had not frightened me and pushed me away, I would still be on the stage! Now here I am standing in front of my tormentor-" before she could continue, Erik spoke back again.

"Oh! So it is about me now?!" 

"Yes! It has always been about you! And yes, It is either I'm stuck here with you tonight or wasting myself away trying to grab crumbs from the wealthy like a dog! I'm sure you must be happy about my torture!" Christine could not take it anymore as she weakly sat back on her chair and choked a sob. _I did not do anything to deserve this dilemma._

Erik regretted saying those hurtful words to her. He suddenly sensed his unconscious temper slowly falter with the mere sight of a tear from Christine's eye. He tried to make amends and humbly knelt at Christine's feet. " _ **Forgive me, Christine. I had spoken out of line. The last thing I would ever want is to hurt you."**_ he faintly sang to Christine.

 _ **"But you already did, my angel. I did no wrong."**_ Christine sang melancholically but she used the short silence to stare at his soft eyes. She loved how the light danced around the brown orbs.

Erik closed his eyes for a little while to compose himself before he sat again on his chair opposite hers. They both sat in a deafening silence once again before Erik muttered faintly. "You do not have to follow or hear everything I say. It does not matter because you are free. If you wish to sing, then... you should and I would not bother you anymore. I promise." Erik sighed.

"But what am I to do? If I had to marry Raoul, a Vicomtess can not be a singer. That will be against the customs." said Christine as she fidgeted her skirt. Erik remembered the reason why she came here, for his guidance. But he had lashed on her, instead. Erik could only do but despise himself more.

"Christine, I am not sure if I am the right one to give you a proper advice but I also would not want to make your long travel wasted." As he said these words, he scooted his seat distantly beside her which made Christine gaze upon him.

 _ **"Look into your heart. The heart understands. The heart never lies. Believe what it feels and trust what it shows. Look into your heart, the heart always knows."** _Even though, he never believed in the concept of love and let his heart follow once; he finally managed to because he loved her and would always love her. He sang to her softly which made Christine smile. _**"Life is not always beautiful. Not at the start."**_

 _ **"I believe you, Monsieur. More than anyone. But life is not always beautiful. Nor does reality."**_ If there was one thing Christine discovered, it was the _harsh reality._ She knew that the world would want something in return in exchange for her happiness, stardom and a chance to luxury. With that, she had to heed to its every word if she wanted to live with it. But if there was any chance of slight freedom, she would grab it before any second now. But was there one?

 _ **"Tell me what you want."** _As Christine heard Erik once again, she had finally came to a decision that would sustain her survival and protect her heart. If there was something she once risked for herself, It was when she reluctantly let go of the ring that was nor around his finger. His heart. She knew she could not protect herself by doing what she selfishly wanted nor by trying to protect his. She knew he was too heavy to carry and he knew it was not better to stand just yet. They both had to do it by themselves for now.

"I love Raoul and I want to marry him. This way, your desired wish to free me will be worth it. For I know it is the only thing I could do to thank you for everything." She smiled at him with sincerity as she reached for his pale hand on his lap. She felt him shudder slightly but managed to hold her back and gently rubbed her knuckles. Christine noticed the small smile which appeared from his mouth.

Bit by bit, Erik's heart started to crumble on what she had finally decided for herself but he had to remember the fact that it was his only reason why he let her go. To be safe and happy with the boy. He loved her too much that he wanted her to be with another man's arms, just to see her smile. Truthfully, such blessings were not easy to be taken upon. There was nothing in this world that could make him happy but to witness his beloved grab one of those blessings.

If letting Christine go and giving her anything that she truly deserve would please her, then it was enough. If it was what she desired, she should have it. Even if his heart was to be pierced in front of her, so be it. "If it will please you, my angel. Then I can die happy and content."

* * *

Raoul stared at the lit moon from his window in his bedroom. He already missed Christine and he thought of her all day. He was sure she must have been enjoying the Girys' company and he knew it would make her happy. He started to worry what his life might make of her. He was not blind to the rules of the high society but these rules had already bounded him since he was born. Would he let Christine be bounded as well?

Before his thoughts would go more further, he heard a sharp knock from the other side of the door. "Come in." said Raoul.

His room was suddenly occupied by a man taller and intimidating than him. With a confident smirk, Philippe greeted his younger brother with a soft nod. He was still dressed with his day suit and hat as though he just got home from business.

But what alarmed Raoul was his red lotus pin on his coat collar. He stared at his brother through his cold, blue eyes with a disconcerted face. So it was not just _business_ again.

"You did not attend this morning." Philippe spoke deeply which made Raoul shudder slightly. He slowly stood beside his brother near the window.

"I had to escort Christine back to town and I had work, as well." replied Raoul casually. It was also his way of trying to ignore his brother's whim. But no matter how disturbing it was, he still respected Philippe highly than any man.

"I see. Her again. What would the people think of you marrying an orphaned opera singer?" sneered Philippe to Raoul. As far as he knew, Philippe was still convinced that Christine was no good for him. Raoul had already thought of this problem but he truly loved her and he was more than willing to defend her from his family. If he had to accept a thousand blows, he would for her. He had even tried to risk his life to save her from _him._ He loved the little girl who lived in the house by the sea and he loved the woman who sang for him on the stage.

"Yes, my dear brother. Her and her, still. But I would prefer not listening to you bleat about her." Raoul replied with a saddened gaze. He did not want to argue more about Christine with his brother. If anything, it was the last thing he would want to do with his brother.

"Ha! There is the fire! I would love to see that attitude more soon. I just hope it will not be about her." Philippe clapped his hands with a satisfying chuckle. Raoul was relieved that his brother was back to his usual self. He smiled in response and clasped his hands on his back.

"I want to marry her and I will marry her. No one, even you, will stop me. My heart only beats for her." Raoul's last words to his brother tonight had set the bar straight between them and Philippe only nodded in surrender.

As he reached for the door, he looked back to his little brother near the window, still gazing through the night. Before Raoul could bid good night, his whole body shivered when he heard Philippe sang for the first time tonight.

_**"Les hommes le feront, mais il verra"** _

Raoul remained on his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Les hommes le feront, mais il verra" in French, means "Men will do, but He will see."  
> You will all know about this in the upcoming chapters. Thank you for reading!


	8. The Bare Truth

**The Bare Truth**

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"Tell me what happened to us." asked Christine as she continued rubbing his cold knuckles. Erik lifted his head to her with confused eyes. He realized that it was almost turning morrow when Christine insisted to sit with him for another little while. His last statement earlier brought tears from Christine's green eyes that he almost felt bad for unveiling his feelings. The feelings of a monster.

He only nodded willingly to her whim. If she wanted to know the truth for the last time, it was now the best time. _**"I gave you my music, let your song take wing. I am so proud of you when I heard you sing."**_ Erik took hold of her hands and gently kissed them.

 _ **"You brought me into your world. Its beauty and its darkness. I was entranced. I fell in love."**_ she sang back with him and smiled tearfully. Erik stood from his seat and walked near the fireplace. He stared momentarily at the flickering fire before he sang again, _**"I fell in love with your eyes, your compassion, your strength and your voice."**_ Before Christine could respond with song, she noticed his brows furrowed. He stared back at her sternly.

 _ **"Then you had opened the Pandora's box. So many demons unleashed and you revealed this accursed creation of God!"**_ He motioned his palm to the right side of his masked face. Christine remembered herself unmasking him for the first time. She thought she was in the verge of a mysterious dream and recognized him as a man of darkness. Her strong, childish curiosity and eagerness to know him woke her up. She felt the calmness of her fantasy slowly burn into a heated nightmare.

 _ **"I was afraid of your rage but I was a stupid girl. A stupid girl who never learns. You begged for my mercy but I shunned you, instead."**_ Christine sobbed with her own words and their remorse. When Erik saw her eyes flicker, he abruptly knelt in front of her and held on her hands to comfort her.

 _ **"But I forgave you. I am not proud of what I had done. I hope you could forgive me."**_ As Erik sang, Christine caressed his masked cheek as a sign of her never ending compassion. Erik could only do but rest his face on her warm palm. Then he sang again, _**"After that night, as I watched you upon the stage. My anger surpassed me and that night, I took an innocent life."**_ After Erik had reached his first decrescendo, he moved away from Christine; suddenly afraid from her gaze. Christine opened her mouth in question.

"Joseph Buquet." muttered Christine faintly. Erik slightly gazed behind him before he released a defeating sigh.

"I know that my anger and my past are not the adequate reasons to justify my crimes. There is no better reason, at all. I only did what was right for me. And I did it again, with the tenor. I feel demented." stated Erik while he kept his drowsy gaze to the fire. The first confession shook Christine more than how she heard the crime before the performance for Il Muto. To had heard it exactly from him appalled her. _Christine, look for his eyes;_ she thought.

 _ **"Then I heard you with him, your songs of promises and love. It killed me to the core. I wept in the darkness! I covered my ears and my eyes became blind!"**_ Christine could not take anymore of his tears and stood immediately to him as he sang.

 _ **"I was scared! I held on to the last flicker of light as it promised me the summertime. But I swear to the high and mighty, I did not hate you."**_ she reached for his arm and clung on to it to show him that she was now unafraid. Erik shivered to her sudden touch but he did not remove her. He rubbed her hand on his elbow.

 _ **"But you did, my Christine. When you removed my mask and showed me to the world, I was so scared like I had never felt before. I felt the hate when I forced you in the dress, when I strangled the Vicomte with the lasso and when I made you choose. So much for my point of no return."**_ Erik slowly removed her hand and walked away from the furnace to the parlor window. His eyes sought the lit moon above the night sky.

"I had not looked away yet. You did." said Christine sternly. Erik stood his ground looking away from her.

"You had not sang back to me." added Christine.

"Should I? I thought the Vicomte had already did the deed for you." replied Erik with a slight tone of bitterness.

"I-It was not supposed to be that way."

"Then how should it be?" asked Erik, setting his eyes to her directly.

"P-Please. I-I was trying to save you from them. I did not want to sing for you that night for it will kill us both. I did what I should do and I know I had ruined you. After I kissed you, I-I was supposed to escape with you. I meant everything I did. That was my decision all along." Erik could not believe his ears for having to hear her own confession. He instinctly reached for his ears to cover himself from the pressure. It was too painful and relieving at the same time.

"Until you let us go. I admit, that I was relieved. But hearing you down there broke my heart. I wanted to make sure that you were there but you had already decided for my fate." Christine's gaze lifted to his onyx ring. She did not want to marry him the way he wanted. She did not want to love him the way he demanded how. But God knows how much she wanted his ring back.

"I thought that it would be the last time."

"No. I did not want it to be that way." Christine walked back to her seat and grabbed her satchel from below. Erik observed her trying to clutch something inside. "I brought you something."

As Christine pulled the object she tried to grab from her bag, Erik's eyes widened in surprise. The same, red leather pulled his thoughts away. Before Erik could ask, she answered gladly. "Meg stole it from the managers last week. She gave it to me for safekeeping." Christine handed the composition of Don Juan over to him.

Erik caressed the smooth leather of his opus, with a gold string which secured its sheets. He began to reminisce the times when he spent most of his weeks scribbling and banging his organ under the dark. Most days, he would not eat nor drink just to write the melodies from his head. The last six months after Il Muto hastened his progress. When he had finally jotted down the last note, he was overjoyed and his handiwork had finally paid off. Until they performed it. He sneered at the sudden memories.

"No matter how hard I had worked for this, it was a work of a madman." His remorse started bubbling up within his heart as Erik threw the opus on the ground angrily. "Don Juan was a cruel man with a twisted mind. He was a man who can do anything he wants because he was rich and handsome. And he wanted to use Aminta for his earthly desires. To use her, Christine! A wretched man, indeed! But Aminta was a brave maiden, she had unmasked him for his wickedness."

Christine grabbed the opus from the floor and enclosed it on her chest as though protecting it. She had remembered his face that night. "But he eventually fell in love with her. After everything that had happened." mentioned Christine as she flipped the sheets absentmindedly.

"Yes, he did. He sought penance and died for her." Erik clasped his hands on his nape when he felt a sudden heaviness succumbed him. Christine gaped at the sudden realization. He was Don Juan and she was Aminta. She took a gaze to the leather one more time before Erik spoke again, "I used you and your voice for myself. To show the world what I always have within me. You were my mask. But you are my friend. I wanted to help you heal and learn. In return, you had helped me too."

Erik turned his back to Christine. "But it was not my intention to fall in love with you for I did not know the meaning of it. Until you had grown into a strong, young woman that you are now. With that, I am now willing to crumble myself so that I could see your eyes filled with joy." His eyes turned moist as he smiled at her sincerely. Christine felt hers warm back.

"You would have made me happy back then." muttered Christine.

"I would have."

"You could have sang back."

"I could have." Erik finally faced her from the light. Before Erik could anticipate Christine's sudden movement, he stiffened as she encircled her arms around his waist. He eventually gave up resisting her touch and embraced her back. They stayed with the same position for a few moments until Christine whispered on his chest.

"I had dreamt about you."

"I had, too." he smiled as he whispered back on her hair.

"Under the oak tree."

"With our souls in between." They both gasped as they both lifted their heads to stare at each other. Christine smiled at the revelation and suddenly kissed Erik's bare chin to acknowledge him. Erik gently lifted her hand from his shoulder and kissed it back.

The night suddenly got more colder and Erik wrapped her blue cloak around her shoulders. He went back outside to grab more stack of wood to add fire in his furnace. For now, Christine got comfortable watching Erik roamed around the cabin. She loved how he walked gracefully and hummed simple melodies under his breath. It looked so surreal witnessing her maestro move and do like a man, no matter how little it was; and how he sometimes stare like a child amused her.

She had finally thought of a realization that she wanted to ask of her angel. She had realized she wanted him back the way he was before. The moment before she unmasked him. The wonder in her eyes and his passion for his music. But he was a murderer and your tormentor, said the little voice inside her head as she looked at him. He was, so were other men. He was, so was she. For she had tormented him for life just like how he tormented her when he was gone for the last six months. No matter how angry she was to his wrongdoings, she did not have the courage to let him go. How could he had so much courage to let her go that night? Had he felt himself dying gradually, after? Christine called his name and the man in front of her abruptly stood back.

"E-Erik, May I ask something from you for one last time?" Christine dropped the formalities and muttered his first name eagerly. Erik lifted his brows and sat beside her. He finally felt the coldness of the night.

"Anything, Christine. Ask away." Erik felt the urge to clutch his cravat loosely from his neck.

"I-I, uhm, If it is not too much. I would like you to be my teacher, once again. The man who could guide me through my future." She sought for his answer within his eyes as if she could not wait for a pause any longer. But she only found blank.

Erik parted his lips in confusion as she asked him her favor. He could not believe her words but he felt delighted to the fact that she wanted him back in her life. As her teacher and friend. But as much as he wanted to accept her request, there was a void haunting his soul. He did not trust himself as he thought of the other being within him, slowly crushing his little sanity. It was too much to bear. Everything would not work if Christine was there. She was, indeed, the other half of his soul. The half of the moon, the left of his right. His muse and the love of his life. If she would willingly carry him with her, she would stumble. All because the demon inside him would burden her and slow their journey. He could not bear that.

But he would try. Try to kill the demon and become the man she wanted him to be and the person she would be proud of. Her teacher. She had saved him, his dearest Christine. Erik closed his eyes and breathed a sigh. When he finally had an answer, he sought her green eyes. He smiled sadly, "Christine, I can't."

Cold water flushed within her body when she received a different outcome from him. Truthfully, she was almost sure he would agree and accept the opportunity. But a different glow came out from his soft eyes. It was both hope and gloom. She could not comprehend yet, "W-Why not? Are you still angry with me?"

"Christine, no. I did not mean such-"

"No! I know you let me go but this is unfair. You had decided for me without letting me speak for myself and yet you would not grant me this. I wanted you back because I still care for you and you were my family!" Christine stood away from him and wept.

Erik felt guilt-ridden and he immediately followed where she now stood, "Now I had no one with me." muttered Christine sobbingly.

"Christine, no. That's not true. You had the Vicomte by your side. He will help you through your life." Erik rubbed her bare shoulders soothingly.

"He's different! You are different! You knew me since I was a child and you have always been there, singing songs in my head. It will be just like before. Why stop now?" Christine sniffed between her words as she continued sobbing with Erik behind her.

Her request was too much for him. Too much for her and the Vicomte. He had to explain his new purpose. His determination to try to change the course of his life. He had to, for her sake. "Christine, my love. Please listen to me. I cannot bring you so much trouble. You knew I was too heavy to carry. I knew my ring was too cold on your skin. If anything, I only ask for your kind patience."

When Christine looked behind to him, he continued. "I am not well, my dear. I had come to realize that and I needed to heal myself first. I had to walk to my road and teach myself to live again. And maybe one day, I will become the person you would be proud of. The man who will guide you once again, if you would let him." He stopped and smiled assuredly to her.

Christine choked a sob when she had listened to his reason for not accepting. She cried because of his selflessness. He wanted to do this for her and promised to her that he would return for her. As a friend and a family she needed. A father and an angel. She embraced him again tightly as she sniffed on his chest. Erik immediately rubbed her back in circles to soothe her. They both clung on each other, their souls intertwined.

"I do not want to lose you." said Christine as she lifted her head to face him.

"Oh, dear child. You won't lose me. I will still dream of you and I hope you will, too." replied Erik with an appeasing tone that made Christine sniff again.

"Oh, I will! You must lull me to sleep when I do." demanded Christine with a childish tone. Erik chuckled and gently caressed her soft cheek. He was surprised that Christine could become a strong woman and a child at the same time. She was truly beautiful.

He pressed his lips on her curls, "I do not want to cause you more sorrow. I want you to have a better life, even if it will be without me. I want you live through the light. You are so strong, my Christine and I am very proud of you. I know you can handle it. I had underestimated you once but I am now confident of your vigor. One day, you will show the world that you are the one and only Christine Daae and you will teach your children to be as kind as you are. That one day, they will also be visited by their angel of music."

She hated how he could stand there straightly and was capable to make her cry more. For all she knew, she must looked like an ugly mess. But she cared little about that. She had already made his shirt wet but he did not care anymore. Christine just wanted to stay like this with him forever. The voice she had always loved was now embracing her securely.

"Atleast, write to me. Please." begged Christine as she let go of his waist and held his hands. 

Erik only sighed and shook his head in surrender, "If it will please you, Christine. I will write to you every first of the month discreetly." he smiled widely when Christine giggled and replied her heartful thanks.

Another matter came to her mind, _Raoul_. She was too much selfish to even think of her beloved. But she knew Raoul would not easily understand and allow her to keep in touch with the former Phantom. She loved them both differently, in her way. She had to respect his wishes for both of their sakes. She had to do the same for the man in front of her, for she knew he was still a fugitive in hiding. For now, she could only do but hide their plans from her fiance. It would be just the future letters, nothing else. She hoped that one day, Raoul would accept him as any man and as a friend of his bride. She just have to wait and be patient. Oh, what a blind fantasy.

Christine returned to her seat and checked her pocket watch. It was now the start of the early morning but the night was still as cold as last night. "It's still dark. I suggest you sleep in the guest room until the sun comes out later. I will bring you a candle for a little while." Erik smiled as he escorted her upstairs to he room.

Christine found the room warm and homey. The bed and its sheets smelled new and there stood beside it was a writing desk. It was small but Christine loved its simplicity. She sat bouncily on the bed while she gently rubbed the fabric.

Erik came back with two lit candles and brought it on the desk. "These should suffice. The bathroom was at the other side of this room. Call to me when you need to bathe, I shall warm a bath for you first. My room is in front of yours." he slightly smiled and clutched on to his tailcoat absentmindedly.

Erik suddenly stiffened when he _saw_ Christine sitting on her bed. He heard the voice in his head that he truly despised. _**"Take her now and she will be yours!"**_

 _ **"I won't surrender to you! You had already brought us pain!"**_ Erik replied beggingly.

_**"It's what you want! This is the point of no return!"** _

_**"Shut up and let me go! Christine does not want this!"** _

_**"A monster gets what he wants!"**_ The voice continued to bother Erik's mind. He closed his eyes tightly as loud, overlapping voices battle in his head.

"Erik?" Christine noticed how stiff and red her maestro looked as he stood at her doorway. His eyes were firmly shut and his head would often shake. It was as though he was dreaming and he was struggling inside. Christine felt more worried when she tried to call for him once again but he did not respond. She slowly approached him and grabbed his shoulders.

 _ **"Do it now! She is there!"**_ the voice sang angrily.

 _ **"Shut up! Shut up!"**_ Erik was unable to cover his ears and shut the noises up. He was petrified in the darkness, once again.

 _ **"Surrender to the temptations of the flesh! Flesh! Flesh! Flesh! Flesh! Flesh!"** _the voice kept on going and Erik felt like he was burning and a thousand daggers pierced through his beating heart. It was so painful. God, make this stop!

Before Erik could see the fading light, a sudden, warm flesh touched his cold lips. The voices had finally stopped.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Christine's flushed face on his. Her soft lips against his rough ones. Her lids fluttered and her brows slowly loosened from furrowing. Erik felt the same warmth he once felt when she first kissed him that night. His heart was beating rapidly when he slowly reached for her hand on his masked face.

He was ignorant of human affections and did not know how he could respond properly. Christine realized this as she felt his lips still. With that, she used that moment and tried to move to encourage him to open his mouth. He did slowly and he whimpered when she found his tongue with hers. They both tried to explore themselves passionately until Erik parted from her lips gaspingly.

They both stared at each other for a few moments, drinking sights only with each other. Erik heard a small exhale, coming out from her mouth.

"Stay."


	9. Beyond our Point of No Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a M Rated Chapter so please be warned for the younger minds.

**Beyond our Point of No Return**

**╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗**

****

**╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝**

Christine noticed how Erik trembled after she openly kissed him for the first time of tonight. But the darkness in his eyes did not falter. "Please stay." whispered Christine as she slowly pulled him to sit on the bed with her.

"What's wrong, Erik?" asked Christine as she gently massaged his shivering shoulders. She got more worried when he choked a sob and covered his face. She continued reaching for him.

"I-I can't stay w-with you. The voice might harm you." replied Erik as he kept sobbing on his palms. Christine stopped rubbing his arms.

"What voice? Please tell me what's wrong?" Christine reached unconsciously for his chest and she was slightly startled when she felt his heart beating heavily. Erik could not stop gasping for air as he was succumbing to Christine's warm touches.

"A voice i-in my h-head. A demon i-in my soul. Telling me what to d-do." Erik replied as he clutched on her hand tightly for warmth. He rubbed her knuckles softly.

"Whose voice? I don't understand."

"It was my voice, Christine. It was the same voice you heard that night. The voice which threatened you and sang to you. It was always there and he would not leave me alone." Erik reached for his ears as though he was hearing them all again. Christine understood his meaning. _A voice in your head,_ as most people would say. To put it some way, he was her voice in her head. But she saw how it was torturing Erik instead and she thought she needed to listen to him this time.

"How did it all start? Please tell me, Erik." pleaded Christine as she let go of his shoulders. He suddenly stared in question at her.

"I-I can't, Christine. My life is too much for you. I-It would hurt you. And m-me." Erik shook his head and scooted slightly away from her. Suddenly he felt the slight abandon from her skin.

"Erik, it would hurt more if you let the pain consume you. I assure you that it would not harm us both." replied Christine with a small smile.

"B-But you would stay away from me. You would disgust me. I do not want that to be the end of our rekindled friendship." Erik was afraid Christine would despise him forever if he ever revealed a little story about him. But her face showed him otherwise.

"I would not, Erik. Remember those times when I tried to confess my puerile sins to you? You even teased me about it and you forgave me." 

"You told me about you poking holes in little Lucia's shiny stockings because she pushed you from a stair." Erik chuckled to the sweet memory.

"Well, yes. She deserved it, anyway." Christine waved her curls from her shoulders that made Erik slightly enticed.

"It actually made me laugh for hours instead of scolding you." They both gave in and laughed at the little, childish memories of an angel at the back of a mirror and a child of fifteen holding a pair of ruined stockings. Christine had the same determination she had before she unmasked him for the first time. To know him, to discover him and to admire his genius.

With that, Erik breathed a hard sigh and loosened the heaviness of his shoulders. He sought Christine's teary eyes before he opened his mouth, _**"It was a cold night when a loud cry shook the walls of a little home in Rouen. Angels sang a song within the ears of a child."**_

 _ **"It was a cold night when a woman cried in distress, as she saw the curse on her wet bed."**_ Christine could hear the gentle cries within his voice.

 _ **"Half Human, Half Monster. It was a cold night when my mother looked at me for the first and last time."**_ Erik slowly lifted his hand to touch his masked face.

 _ **"Just a babe when she gifted me my first clothing. A mask, made from scrap leather and stitched to fit for me. It was a cold night when I trembled with nothing to cover my body."**_ Christine felt her eyes warm with new tears. How could such a person hate an innocent child blindly? It was not his fault he was born that way.

 _ **"It was a cold night when I asked my mother for a small gift. Two kisses. For a first and second to save later. She cried! Oh she cried!"**_ Erik reached for the edge of his mask but he stopped himself from snatching it away from his face.

_**"I cried when she forced me to see my monstrosity! Endless nightmares of my own face torturing me. The voices started singing in my head."** _

_**"Stay, I said. Go away, he said. See my face, I yelled. Hell with your face, they said. They would not go! They had been consuming this weak soul for thirty years!"**_ Erik knelt weakly in front of Christine and reached for her warm palms.

 _ **"It was a cold night when I escaped my mother's hand. It was a cold night when I escaped from my cage. It was a cold night when I escaped from foreign lands. All my life I had only known how to escape from the laws of men."**_ He rested his masked forehead on her legs to rest himself. Christine reached for his head and gently caressed him.

 _ **"It was a cold night when I heard your voice from above. You sang me to sleep as I call for your name."**_ Christine suddenly sang with a comforting voice. Erik took the time to absorb the beauty of her voice. The first time he heard her voice brought him to his knees and brought tears to his eyes as he praised for a real angel fallen from the heavens above. _**"It was a cold night when you taught me to sing. Those days when I only longed for your voice in my head."**_

 _ **"It was a cold night when we first met. When you sang to me. When you touched me. For I am alive!"**_ As they both reached their crescendo, they held hands and stayed silent for a few moments. Christine started to cry softly.

 _ **"It was a cold night when you left me for the first time. I had loved you and yet you despised me."**_ Christine sang with a tone of slight resentment. Erik abruptly removed his hands from her and clutched them around his waistcoat. His eyes stared at her like a scolded child. The memory stirred, as bright as day. The first time he tried letting her go.

"It was a cold night, my dear child. When you came late for our lesson and I was angry. Not to you, no. But to myself. I deeply regretted my actions and I had caused you so much pain." said Erik as he kept on switching his gaze on the floor and Christine.

"Why are you angry?" Christine asked with furrowed brows.

He had to tell her. "Because that was when I realized I had fallen in love with you."

 _ **"It was a cold night when I longed for you to see me. When I longed for human affections. It was not right for a man like me. It was a sin for which I could not fathom to commit."**_ Erik lifted his hands to reach for hers once again, begging her with his eyes to stay. But Christine only sighed and held on to his cold hands tightly.

 _ **"It was a cold night when you had set me free. You loved me and I cried with you. For I have lived."**_ sang Christine as she felt for the cold metal around his finger.

 _ **"It was a warm morning. No more nights. No more tears. For I have lived!"**_ As Erik sat beside her again, they both had ended their song. They faced each other and wept together soundlessly. Erik felt his body calm and his spirit soared. The heaviness of his memories slowly felt lighter. He realized that she had reached for his burden and shared it with him. His kind Christine. His forever savior. He gently caressed Christine's warm cheek as he rested his forehead on hers. This was enough.

Christine slowly lifted her head and moved closely to feel his cold breath. She softly sought his misshapen lips and kissed him once again. This time, Erik did not stiffened. He welcomed Christine and let her explore his mouth comfortably. He had finally let himself surrender to her will. He slowly responded even though he still felt like a fool of himself. Erik felt like an amateur for the first time. Erik made a small sound when she gently bit his lower lip. They both parted for a moment to breathe until Erik kissed her again, a bit harder this time. _Why did she have to grow up to be a woman preparing to torture my soul?_

_She was no longer the little girl he met in the small chapel. She was no longer the timid adolescent who came in the dressing room, torturing his flesh alive. She was no longer the scared maiden running away from him. She is Christine Daae. The woman that he will love from afar until the end of time._

Christine twined her arms around his neck and pulled his warmth closer as she deepened their kiss. She heard him slightly moaned when she continued to dart her tongue inside his mouth. Erik felt he was slowly burning in passion as he sensed a strange feeling for the first time. Christine noticed she was being bewitched gradually as she reached for his cravat and pulled it away.

Erik immediately stopped her hands from trying to unbutton his shirt. He parted his lips from her and pushed her arms away lightly. "No, we can't do this, Christine."

Christine made a disappointed face when Erik looked away from her shamefully. She was breathing heavily of longing and she suddenly felt something warm within her lower body. She had never felt like this before, even with Raoul. But she realized it was the same desire when he sang to her the first time they met in his lair. She could not stop the gnawing within her skin for it was there, waiting for her to give in.

But this man was her teacher, a murderer and her ghost. The man she loved in her own way. She trusted him more than anyone, despite his past transgressions against her. She had hated her. Yet she longed for him even more. She was captured with him and the bridge had been crossed. Tonight, they would have to watch it burn.

 _ **"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime."**_ Erik felt his head rise along with the song. She had sang the same verse she did that night. He looked behind at her and gasped tiredly. She wanted him back and he wanted her more. Erik slowly moved near her and caressed her wet cheek. Back then, he did not sing back to her. _I don't deserve her. For years, I tried relieving myself from the temptations of the flesh. I could not let this happen tonight. No. I love her._

He would, _**"Lead me, save me from my solitude."**_ and always would. _**"Say you need me with you here, beside you."**_

 _ **"Promise me that you will stay for me."**_ sang Christine back as she reached for the edge of his mask.

 _ **"That's all I ask of you."**_ Finally, the song had been sung. The rope has been tied. Their minds did not doubt. Their souls had been reconnected. She was the left and he was the right. He was black and she was white. A woman and a man.

When Erik felt her fingers on the edge of his mask, he abruptly stopped her from removing it. "Christine, no. I do not want you to see my disgusting face again. You deserve so much more and you are too pure." he pleaded dejectedly. But Christine did not remove her hand but lifted another hand on the other edge instead. She only smiled sincerely.

"Please, Erik. I want to see you. Let me look at you. Let me see who you truly are." Christine replied as she slowly removed the black mask from his face. Erik closed his eyes to spare himself from her eyes. He expected a fit of gasps or screams until he felt warm flesh pressing against his deformed cheek, his right eye and his nose.

Erik opened his eyes and saw Christine's bright, green eyes. He slowly kissed her tender lips gratefully as he slowly let himself be consumed with her love.

Christine kissed every curve, swelling and misshapen quality of his face. She did not feel any disgust as she tried memorizing every pattern. She found his long, soft eyelashes and realized that she childishly envied that part of his face. It was still a face of a man. Unpleasant, but warm and crafted by God. He kissed her affectionately and slowly moved his arms around her small waist.

Christine continued unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt and inserted her hand to touch his burning his skin. Erik raised his hand to explore her jaw gently. Their kiss got more deeper and Erik had finally learned how to respond properly.

She parted her lips from his slowly and pressed it against his jaw and his neck. Erik let out a soft moan when he felt her warm mouth, kissing his bare skin while her hand roamed around his chest. Christine pulled back to stare at him with wonder and love. She returned to kiss him as she gently pushed him to lie on his back.

Erik started caressing her bare neck and shoulders. He was completely entranced of her beauty. He parted from her lips and pressed it against where his hands were now touching. She moaned near his ear from the great longing she was feeling.

With Erik's surprise, she removed his coat and straddled on his lap. He groaned when he felt an unfamiliar sensation beneath him. He felt himself burning with lust as he hungrily kissed her lips and pulled her more between his legs.

Christine inhaled more air when she took a moment to look at his soft eyes. "I want you."

"I-I, C-Christine. I-I do not know how." he replied shamefully.

"Then we'll learn by ourselves." she kissed him again and this time, she guided his hand on her bare chest and down to the peaks of her clothed bust. The corset was too much work to remove and she did not want to part any second from him. Erik pressured his hands on her chest as he unconsciously kneaded her breasts against her clothing. He felt a small sense of satisfaction when she moaned with pleasure. His hands slowly made way below to her waist and caressed it.

No man has ever touched her like how Erik was touching her carefully. It was more desiring and full of ardor than she expected. His velvet voice of honey and smoke was just the tip of the iceberg. She did not expect that his bodily affections were much more of a tough challenge. Christine could not deny any more of his intoxicating caresses as she had finally let the darkness consume her.

Erik gently carried her down and flipped their positions. He was now above her and continued to kiss her and feel her warm skin against his. Christine suddenly felt something throb between her thighs. Instinctively, she reached for his hand and slowly guided it near below her stomach.

Erik felt the same quiver of his flesh and slowly positioned himself properly above her legs. He kissed her neck hungrily as he let Christine guide his hand on her stomach and down. He stopped to question her eyes. 

"Touch me." she whispered. With that, he was confused. When he noticed her eyes grew dark and his hand between them, he had finally understood.

He moved a little away from her to make way for his hand to pull her skirt above her hips. With hesitance, his warm palm slowly travelled into her drawers where she felt the strong pressure within. He kissed her neck and clavicles passionately and she gasped as a finger slid down deeply inside her. Erik was ignorant of where he was supposed to touch to give her the pleasure she wanted. 

_Past the point of no return, no going back now._ He felt dazed when he felt his hand soaked of her essence as he sought her weakness beneath him. _Our passion play has now at last begun._ She moaned with lust as she felt his hand exploring her warmly. _How long should we two wait before we are one?_

Erik felt a small bud on his fingertip and gently rubbed it. He heard her cry out in overwhelming pleasure as he continued circling it. He stared at her with awe and she looked at him with fascination. _When will the blood begin to race?_

 _The sleeping bud burst into bloom._ Christine had submitted to the sweet sensation as his finger tried to break her walls. She had finally felt the overflowing finish as she arched her back and cried his name near his ear. _When will the flames at last, consume us?_

"Christine? Do you want this?" Erik pulled out his hand and kissed her forehead with assurance. _Past the point of no return. The final threshold._

"Take me with you, Erik." Christine heard him choke a cry and kissed her softly before pulling away from the bed. She watched him remove his waistcoat and unbutton his trousers. She did not witness more further when he climbed back above her with only his shirt and pants as his protection.

 _The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn._ She pulled him to her tightly and kissed him with fervor. He pulled away her drawers and slowly entered her. They both cried in satisfaction as if they felt something snap inside them. There was a slight pain between her thighs and Erik noticed the slight distress from her face.

"Christine, Did I hurt you? Should I-" he trembled as he observed her wet eyes.

"I-It's normal, my angel. Just kiss me." He followed her and started kissing away the hurtful tears from her eyes. The pain had subsided when he tried filling her with tender caresses and kisses. She encircled her legs around his waist and started pulling him again. Erik moaned to the powerful sensation and quivered as he fully thrust inside her, filling her slowly for the first time. They had finally felt their bodies entwining, defenseless. But not silent, Erik thought. It was a matter of correction.

Her body began to tremble as it reached near towards the edge. He began to push harder and she anticipated every movement, "Forgive me, forgive me." Erik begged as his thrusts grew more frantic, burning her alive and pleasuring her soul. Erik felt the tortured soul inside him awakened and screamed agony within his ears. His loud gasps made Christine harmoniously cry of satisfaction, their voices combining within the walls of the small space.

Christine looked at him as they both had finally soared and groaned each other's names. The cold breath of the night hummed along their melodic panting and gasps. Erik shuddered when he felt his essence flow inside her body. For once, he only felt the love of his life around his arms. He showered her shoulders with soft kisses and he gently held her close as he laid down beside her. He had finally succumbed to the joys of the flesh. "Forgive me, angel. I do not deserve this beautiful gift."

He could not stop his tears any longer and continued asking for her forgiveness for stealing her innocence and for loving her. He moved the curls from her face as he watched her softly yawning to sleep. She looked more beautiful and exquisite beside him. He knew he did not deserve her.

 _ **"Stay and sleep beside me, my angel of music. Until I wake."** _she whispered before she closed her eyes. Erik caressed her cheek and cried silently until he surrendered in the darkness.

* * *

Raoul jolted from his slumber after witnessing such a horrible nightmare. He ran towards the vanity to check himself. His forehead was sweaty and his eyes had dark bags underneath them. In totality, he looked like a mess. He dreamt of that night in his lair, where Christine kissed the man turned demon. Instead, it poisoned her and took her away from him. It was dreadful! He could not bear it anymore.

Ever since Christine left for her little vacation, he spent most of his time working in the family business. Two days had roughly passed ever since she went back to the town to spend her remaining time before their wedding. But every hour without her was torturing him inside. For him, she was not safe yet within the city town of Paris. Their clever friend was still out there on the streets and who knows what he might do. 

But still, he thought about that night. Bit by bit, he tried to recall the scenes in his head. When he first stepped into his lair, the Phantom was obviously mad and obsessed with his fiancee. Even though he was dangerous, Raoul noticed his self control from harming Christine but that did not stop the man from hurting him instead. For he knew, he was the savior and the Phantom was the villain into the story.

What troubled Raoul most was when Christine had calmed the beast into his knees. As though he had stopped fighting for her life and just crawled himself into defeat. Raoul could still not fathom her affections for the man but she was their saving grace. Not only she saved Raoul but she saved the Phantom from further madness.

 _Take her. Forget me._ His last words to him had been etched in his head. The Phantom had trusted him for Christine. He had chosen him for the woman he'd ever loved. Raoul was slightly grateful but he realized that he was not a ghost. But a poor, unhappy man.

Raoul would not forget. Truthfully, he slightly pitied him but he still despised him for killing innocent men and for haunting them just for his ego and jealousy. He was dangerous and would always be dangerous.

 _ **"Who is this angel of music? A genius turned to a madman. A man mocked by men and God."**_ sang Raoul as he sat back on the edge of his bed as he stared at the flickering fire from his candlelamp.

 _ **"The man who gave her a voice and the man who guided her."**_ he palmed his face out of his mere frustration.

_**"She said he was promised by her father. A man of the earth, lived in the darkness. What is the truth?"** _

_**"Christine... Oh, come home."**_

As the sun had finally rose, a steward approached him and gave a letter addressed from Christine. He immediately sat alone inside his office and read her yesterday's message.

She wrote about what had occurred during her first day and Raoul felt joy of her small enthusiasm within her handwriting. She also told him about some fresh news from the Opera Populaire and he was taken aback. Gladly, she did say she remembered her promise and would not step near the opera house. What gave pleasure to him was Christine's sweet regards. She missed him and could not wait to tell him of her vacation in person. 

Raoul smiled.

* * *

Christine woke up from the warm light which had slowly shone to her face. She moved her hand beside the cold, empty space beside her. She looked at herself as she slowly rose and sat on the bed. She noticed her clothing still intact but she felt missing of her drawers. The sudden realization had finally dawned in her whole being. 

She slept with the Phantom of the Opera. _Oh God, What have I done?_

Just before she could stand to look for Erik, the man suddenly came in with a tray of baguette, cheese and tea. He shyly smiled at her as he put the tray on the bedside. "Good Morning, my dear. I brought you breakfast. I'm sure you feel famished."

She smiled back at him but when she tried to stand, Erik noticed the slight crumple from her face, "Please rest, Christine. Are you hurt? Let me look at you." he sat beside Christine as he lifted her skirt just below her legs and saw a smudge of blood stained on the edge of her dress. He gasped and almost felt panicked.

"Y-You're bleeding." he muttered painfully.

"Erik, I-It's-" Before she could continue, he loudly spoke back in mercy.

"I had hurt you! Christine, God. Forgive me, I had infected your divinity. I should have stopped myself from touching you even further. I am truly a monster." He knelt in front of her and held her hands beggingly. She immediately saw his tears and embraced to calm him. Was he really that broken?

"No, Erik. This is normal. This is what usually happens to the women for their first time." she flushed as she rubbed his back gently to ease his quivering. Erik eventually stopped crying from self loathing when a thought entered his mind. 

"Y-You are truly pure and innocent. I had stained you, this wretched, poor man." said Erik.

"Do you regret what happened to us?" asked Christine with furrowed brows.

"N-No, Christine, no! You are beautiful and I do not deserve your soul which you had given me." replied Erik as he reached for her flushed cheek.

"Good. Then stop hating yourself. If anything, I had asked this of you and I did not regret it. I'm not a child anymore." Erik had finally realized that Christine had transformed into a new person once again: a strong, capable and an independent woman. A woman with no regrets and with pride. It fitted her.

Erik helped her with her dress and gently cleaned the blood from her skin. He watched her as she voraciously ate her bread. Christine noticed the shy stares from him and would even offer him some piece, but he kindly declined. She almost wanted to laugh at his face but she only smiled.

"What?" asked Christine with her mouth full.

Erik looked at her with deep thought. What had occurred last night was purely out of ignorance and innocence. He could not let it slip by. He had taken her as she did to him. He could not also scold Christine for even touching him. It was not her fault. If anything, he was grateful of her affections.

But last night gave him a new ultimatum. He could not easily leave her this way nor he could stay with her side like before. Yet he was now one with her, no matter how she did not love her the way he wanted. He could not force her to be with him but he could be within her reach whenever she deeply needed him. He could not bear to be far away from her anymore. So a slight change of plans must take place.

"Christine, I think I do not have the will to leave from your life. Last night changed us, may it be an accident or intentional. But as I've said, I will have to walk by myself and we can write to each other, if you never changed your mind. I may not be able to see you to your wedding but I sincerely wish you a happy and satisfying life. That's all I want for you and soon, it will all be worth it." said Erik as he kissed her hands and smiled to her happily.

"You're letting me go, again." muttered Christine.

"Yes. I am."

Christine embraced him tightly and thanked him for having her. She stared at his looming figure while she clung on his arm. They both walked together towards the main road where Christine could hail a cab back to town. As they both stood on the side, Erik faced her and pulled something from his finger. His onyx ring.

"Christine, you do not have to wear this. Please keep this not as a sign of my goodbye but of our new lives. If the day comes, when I am now free to see you again, I will know if you have this." he reached for her open palm and put the cold ring on it. He gently closed it and kissed her knuckles. She clutched the ring on her heaving chest.

"Christine, I love you." he softly whispered as he kissed her warm cheek. He was not ashamed of his feelings for her anymore. She sniffed and looked at him with plead. A few seconds had passed before Erik found a carriage going for the busy town of Paris.

Erik helped her to the cab and payed for the ride and a tip for his silence. "Goodbye for now, Christine Daae. I wish you congratulations." But before Christine could say anything back, the carriage had already jolted and she looked out from the window to take a glance at him for one last time.

Erik suddenly felt his feet move and run towards the carriage's direction. He lifted his arm towards her gaze as though he was trying to reach for her. But his legs began to tire and he stumbled on the autumn ground. He watched her slowly fade away from his sight.

He had finally felt the burden in his heart as he started weeping on his knees. He was in the middle of one of France's wide forests, crying his soul out. Brightened along with the sun and trees began to dance in red and yellow shades.

He had her, loved her and worshiped her. Yet he did not have her, really. She belonged out in the light as he was in the dark. But everything would change today. He could not be in the dark forever. He had to see beyond the world. He had to learn and to live for her.

He was not the Phantom of the Opera anymore. He was Erik. A Daae, for she had allowed and offered him to use. A mortal, a genius and soon, a changed man. He clutched on his empty finger. _**"Oh, Christine. My Christine! Yes, I had let you go from myself once before."**_

He gazed above and let the cold breeze blow his masked face. _**"But Christine, what we shared even you can't ignore."**_

 _ **"My Christine! I'll be no longer afraid! I'll be back by your side. My sweet Christine!"**_ He slowly stood from the ground and lifted his arms halfway to the sky.

_**"And come what may, I swear somehow, someway! I will hear you sing once more!"** _


	10. The Passing Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight fluff and smut. Be warned for the younger minds, once again.

**The Passing Light**

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The warm afternoon had finally came just before the carriage had reached back to the busy town of Paris. Christine looked out of her window and immediately saw the light sand colored hair of Meg Giry, poking out amongst the endless bodies passing by. When the cab had dropped her off near the congested marketplace, she leaped towards her best friend and embraced her tightly.

"Slow down, Prima Donna! You startled me." chuckled Meg as she embraced Christine back.

"Care to fill me in later?" asked Meg as she flawlessly hooked her arm on Christine's. Her once, timid friend only giggled. Before they decided to go home, Christine pulled Meg into a souvenir store to buy a pen, ink and some parchment that would last for a few months. When she noticed Meg crumple her face in question of the sudden haul, she only answered, "What? For my letters, of course!"

"Don't you have the Vicomte's servants to shop things like that for you?" Meg slightly laughed as she watched Christine carry her paper bag with pure care.

"I don't want to burden Raoul or any of them with my petty shopping. Besides, I don't need much except some paper to scribble on." replied Christine as they walked across the Seine River. She stared at the flowing light from the waters. They both decided to stop for a moment and rested their forearms against the balustrade.

"Did it help? Seeing him?" Meg lifted her gaze to Christine with a slight curiosity.

Christine suddenly recalled everything that had happened last night. The thought of not being upset nor feeling remorse troubled her. In fact, it was completely out of honesty, reconciliation and assurances. 

He said so himself, he would not bother her until the time comes. He had to redeem himself before he could lose it and she understood. It was his way of moving on, excluding the fact that the gendarmerie was still behind his tail. But she was proud of him despite their circumstances.

"It did, Meg. It was so much worth it. I got to face our demons and accept him in my life once again." replied Christine, her gaze remained afar.

"I'm glad, Christine. I knew he wanted to try. Maman was really worried about you!" Meg playfully hit her shoulder like a scolding. Christine only shook her head.

"Let's go home, Meg. So that I could ease your mother's nerves." Christine pulled her friend's arm as they continued crossing the bridge and walked straight to the Giry home.

Madame Giry was already waiting outside the door when the both of them arrived at the front garden. Her stern and blank face only brought Christine almost nervous. "I'm back, Madame. I'm sorry I did not inform you about this." Christine apologized, softly.

"I knew you will eventually risk it, child. Are you alright?" Madame Giry's eyes changed into worry when she noticed Christine's gaze steady on the floor. But Christine lifted her head in defense.

"No-I mean, yes. I'm quite alright, Madame." she smiled widely. She heard Meg tongue clicked.

"Good. Now both of you come inside. I prepared some late lunch for you both." Madame Giry reached for Christine's arm and hooked onto her as they entered the house together.

Christine noticed the worry lines from her adopted mother when she sprinted around the kitchen tirelessly. It was almost like she was preparing herself for the tea Christine would spill. Christine admitted that she was still feeling dazed after all that had occurred in his home but she remained silent.

As the food had been served in front of them, the two girls quickly ruined the simplicity of their dining table. The older lady could only shake her head in surrender. But the Madame observed Christine's face and to her slight surprise, the girl was unexpectedly jovial than the last time before she left. Her face would, sometimes, flush in embarrassment and her green eyes would flicker in delight.

_Something good must have happen, then._

"Now, my dear. Do tell us about your travel to the lion's den." muttered Madame Giry as the three of them sat on the parlor after finishing their joyful lunch. Christine flinched on her seat and was anxious about how she should start telling and excluding some points of her late travel.

"Shocking as it seems but it felt like Don Juan never happened after this." said Christine as she clutched nervously on the folds of her skirt. Meg and her mother widened their eyes at her introduction. It felt almost surreal to hear that from her. Madame Giry scooted closely near to Christine. "Oh. Pray tell, Christine!" Meg jumped.

"Before I entered his home, It was quite scary. It was the second time I visited him in his home. But when he opened the door for me, it was like watching a scared child after having a nightmare. It broke my heart, again." Little tears flickered slightly from her eyes. She swiped them with her finger as she tried to compose herself, remembering every detail of yesterday. The Girys only sat focused at her voice.

"He never thought I would come back for him. He never thought he would ever see me again. When I saw his soft eyes, I could not deny that I missed him. His voice, his selflessness, his pain and his music." Christine noticed the concern from the Madame's dark eyes.

"He was quite gentle with me last night. We drank tea and chatted some things. I asked him about my career and as always, he was very supportive. Except that, he lashed out slightly after hearing about Raoul's decision for my case." This time, Madame Giry and Meg gasped unexpectedly and the older lady patted my shoulder.

"He was angry at you? Did he do something-" the Madame's words stopped when Christine abruptly answered back. "No, Madame. He did not lay a finger on me. He was angry and I had experienced that before this. I knew the limits of his rage but he is human." Christine could not blame Erik's sudden temper but considering his past, he was still still struggling for control. But he did his best last night, thanks to her tears. She knew it was painful for him to see her cry.

"As I've said, he let me decide and I decided on marrying Raoul. I love him, indeed. But seeing Erik there, content with my babbling; I felt comfortable confiding to him more just like from the past." she smiled when she recalled Erik's innocent gazes. "He was quite understanding of my decisions now unlike before. It was surprising but I was happy."

Suddenly, Meg Giry crumpled her face in question, "What did you say his name was?" Christine looked at her in shock. "Wait, Did he not mention it once to you, Madame?"

Madame Giry could only shake her head in unawareness. Christine sighed at the thought that she was the only one who called him by his real name. "His name is Erik. It was simple and funny at the same time. But it, actually, fitted him. He did not have a last name so he asked permission to use mine if ever people would ask."

"At least it was better than Monsieur Le Phantom or Opera Ghost." Meg chuckled at the monikers.

"Almost ten years lurking and haunting around the opera house, he did not even had the courtesy to introduce himself properly while providing my salary for his box." Madame Giry tongue clicked in dismay. She was quite, at least, acknowledging of his presence and manners whenever he would speak to her in his private box. But she was surprised the child had more secrets about him to hide than she had. Christine only giggled.

"If I may continue, we talked more about a lot of things. Our past, his lessons, we sang a little but it was because I initiated it. He was kind enough to entertain me with stories and oh, he had met some new people before I came." Meg gasped once again and covered her mouth with her hand.

"He met people?" The Girys asked. Christine laughed at the sudden overreaction.

"Relax. It was not that! They were a father and son lost in the woods. Erik only gave them a night's accommodation and eventually made friends with him. I told you he was trying." Christine saw the relief from their faces as they set aside their anxieties.

"Anyway, to keep it short. I asked him to be my teacher once again." Meg held her hand slowly and stared at her teary eyes. "What did he say?"

"He said no, Meg. But in a good way. He politely rejected my offer because he wanted to live and learn by himself first. He was afraid but he assured me he would do everything he can to make the world accept him again. It needed to be done, he said. All I can do is wait." As Christine wiped the tear from her cheek, the Girys nodded slowly in response.

"He was right, Christine. After everything that had happened, we cannot deny that it was traumatizing and regretful at the same time. But we had to face our demons by ourselves in order to survive the battle. You did so by seeing him and he will do the same." Madame Giry said as she wiped the last of Christine's tears. She smiled at the thought and nodded in satisfaction. She had already imagined Erik's white mask shining through the light of the world as several people would flock to him and ask about the secrets behind his compositions. Claps and endless whistles for the maestro who introduced Christine Daae to the world. But she furrowed when she remembered the night of Don Juan. New tears blurred her vision when she thought of the moment she showed him to the world. A deformed face and a nightmarish scream flooded the walls of the opera house and the thousand eyes of the Parisian audience. She suddenly felt her stomach churn.

Meg embraced her best friend as she suddenly fitted into hurtful sobs. She must have remembered something bad again. "Hush, Christine. It's okay. Don't cry, we're here for you."

Christine sniffed painfully, "I know. It's just- I had hurt him badly and yet he welcomed me back in open arms. You saw his face that night, it scared me! I had etched the memory into his mind forever yet he had forgiven me. I had to do it for him! To save him! I could not let the men hurt him there with me. It was too much."

"If anything, my dear. It was the Vicomte who pushed you there. They knew you would not have it, I would not have it! These hardheaded fops." Madame Giry muttered under her breath with slight rage. Christine held her hand.

"I cannot blame it on Raoul. He only wanted me safe. He wanted this to stop. He saved my life and I am grateful." Christine stared on the floor again.

"It's alright, my dear. However, it would be best that the Vicomte will not know of your little visit. If you value your maestro's life, it's better he is there, alone and safe." Madame Giry embraced her adopted daughter in assurance and care as she continued sobbing for Erik's life.

When Christine had retired earlier than expected, she occupied her thoughts of last night on her bed. She thought of his caresses and his flattering voice near her ear, suddenly feeling her belly ache. She kept on telling herself that she was not in her right mind when she slept with him. No, Christine Daae. You were as sane as any normal person in the world and you wanted him just as he wanted you. She thought of herself more and more. Maybe because for the first time, she wanted control over him. He had controlled her for the last ten years under his wing and she blindly followed. But the last night changed the both of them. Her control over his mind and soul overwhelmed her and she was surprised when he had let her. His ignorance of a man's physical needs gave an opening for Christine as well as his willingness to break his walls for her. But she was as ignorant as he was, but she was relieved that neither of them both mind. The ballet girls had once told her of stories under the sheets, which frankly, she took as a _free advice_. They had sought comfort with each other as they welcomed each other with their soaring spirits.

Christine did not want to deny anymore. It felt good. How scandalous she must have felt now!

Then she thought of Raoul. Oh, Poor Raoul! I had wronged him! She had willingly sought to her needs than his. She had forgotten of him that night, under her teacher's arms. She had forgotten the pained look he gave to her when she kissed Erik that night. She had forgotten how exhausted he was when they had climbed back to the opera house. If anything, people would have called her a whore. _A whore, you are indeed!_

It brought tears to Christine once again. She sobbed silently under her bed sheets. A week before their wedding and she had already given her purity to someone else. Worse, his rival and the ghost of their lives! She must have felt regret but all she found in her heart was longing. Oh, God! Shame! Shame! Shame! She was nothing anymore but the Countess who cheated on her husband with a pageboy. She missed Raoul and yet here she was, lying to him. She missed Erik and yet here she was, despising him again. Neither of them deserved this judgement. She had hurt them both and one day, she would pay the price.

Meg Giry ascended from the stairs and found Christine, covered under the sheets and sniffing endlessly. She immediately sat on her bed and rubbed her covered shoulder. "Christine, It's me. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Is the Madame-"

"Maman is doing the laundry. She asked me to look after you for a while. What's wrong?" Meg Giry moved a little away from Christine when she emerged from her bed sheets with puffed eyes and wet cheeks. She sniffed once again before laying her head on Meg's lap.

Again, she sobbed for a little while Meg continued caressing her wild curls. "I slept with Erik."

"WHAT?!" Meg Giry immediately jolted from her bed and stood in front of her. "How did-Oh, good heavens! Why-I thought-you just-" stuttered Meg, rather loudly. Christine hushed her friend repeatedly until Meg stopped babbling nonsense.

"Hush, please Meg! Don't tell Madame! I cannot burden anyone of them with my secrets. It's killing me, Meg! I had to tell you. Will I trust you about this?" Christine reached for her hands as she, pleadingly, asked for her silence. Meg could only scratch her blond head and murmur a full sentence of curses.

"Alright, fine! I love you and I care about you but I am still feeling anxious about this. You have my word." Meg sat on with her again and embraced her crying friend under one arm. 

"Oh, Meg. It's scaring me. What I did was hateful and condemning, right before my marriage with Raoul. I feel like a harlot because I did not regret anything. I had longed for him and his love. All the stress and aches were consuming me and his arms were the only thing that had comforted me." Christine did a fit of sniffing as she reached for Meg's other arm and clung on it tightly.

"He did not want it. He was a good man and he respected me and my decisions. You could have seen him, Meg. He was changing so quickly for a man condemned by the world. His sadness reached for my heart and I openly gave it to him. He kissed me, with all his pain and weaknesses laid upon me to vanquish. All of our sorrows were shared, his heart cracking as I picked up the pieces and tried to put it back. He did not hurt me. He worshiped me as he took me. Oh, Meg! You must have hated me now." Christine hiccuped and shuddered continuously as she struggled for air. Meg only rubbed her shoulders and cried silently with her.

Meg had suspected much. She had an eye of a hawk, her mother once said. She noticed how Christine would, sometimes, limp against a wall awhile ago or flush when Meg told her about Lucilla's nightly adventures, a ballet girl in the opera house. She also knew how the Phantom loved her, like an altar to worship or a china cup handled with so much care. But also, he was obsessed with her. Followed her tail and spoke to her with an angelic voice. It was frightening, especially when Christine would tell her about him. _Now as I sing, I can sense him. And I know he's here._ She remembered how worried she was when Christine had spoken of these 'riddles' after the opening night of Hannibal last year. She thought she was as crazy as a bat. But no, he was real. A man with a white mask and a black cape. A murderer and an extortionist. The Don Juan Triumphant.

But Meg knew how Christine loved her angel of music. With all her heart and soul. That was why when the Phantom had left her before the Masquerade Ball, she was distraught. And no one in the world would comfort her except Meg and the Vicomte De Chagny. She remembered the nights when she would mutter his name in her sleep or she would scream for him not to leave her nor hurt her. No matter how dangerous he was, he would always had the biggest part in Christine's heart. Meg felt a slight pang of jealousy at him in her mind.

"Oh no, my dear Christine. I don't hate you and I would never hate you for telling me what you feel. I'm your best friend, remember? It's you and me against the world." She soothed her Christine with mindless melodies and luckily, she was following through it. She looked at Meg once again, never minding the mess she made on her lap.

"I love Raoul, Meg. But I deceived him." she murmured in sad distress.

"I know. But you are not married yet. And mostly, the women of Paris did not mind their virginity thrown away to someone else. Like us from the ballet, we cannot expect anyone to marry us off into a loyal, lovely man anymore. Society looks down on us." Meg said those words rather sternly. She only stated the truth of their stature but Christine was different. She was fortunate enough to have a man like the Vicomte to marry her out of love. 

"But I did not value my blessing. He loved me and here I am, crying over my despair. I am an ungrateful woman." 

"Look, Christine. You said you did not regret anything that had happened between you and the Phantom. It just meant that you cared for him more than you cared for anyone. I understand that. You said you love Raoul and you want to spend the rest of your days with him forever. And I understand that too. But It's you who have to understand. What do you want?" Meg held Christine's shoulders tightly and steadied her gaze upon her.

"I want this to end. I wanted no doubts. I wanted no sins. I wanted no anger." replied Christine, shaking her head tremulously.

"Then marry Raoul, Christine. Forget this! Forget the pain! Leave this place behind. Erik is gone. He had let you go and you are free. You are safe and you are loved."

"But I can't remove him from my heart. I promised Erik that I would wait for him."

Meg sighed. "Then wait for him and tell him what you feel, he will understand. Let him live and let him go. Nothing more."

* * *

When Raoul had finally saw the looming figures of the horses, his heart was beating fast. His Christine was back! A week without her was madness. His sisters' endless babbling and his brother's demands made him exhausted unlike before. When the carriage had stopped in front of him, he immediately opened the door and Christine jumped right on him. He loudly laughed when the love of his life embraced him with pure power. "Oh, Christine! I missed you!"

"I missed you, Raoul! Oh, my! I had so much to tell you about my week!" Christine's white pearls in her mouth sparkled when she smiled at him with love.

"Oh do tell, my love! We have the whole day for just the both of us. Come!" Raoul held her hand as they ran together to the library, with a fit of laughter roamed around the halls. He did not mind anymore whether Philippe or his sisters saw him with her.

As he closed the door, he gently cupped Christine's face and kissed her passionately. But to his dismay, she was taken aback and pushed him lightly. "I'm sorry, Christine. Did I shock you?"

"No, Raoul. I'm sorry. I was just a little exhausted." she smiled tenderly that made his heart skip a beat. He guided her to sit down on the divan while he lighted the gas lamps in the room. He sat with her slowly and hanged his arm on the back rest behind her.

"How are you, my love? Did you enjoy your vacation?" said Raoul with a handsome smile on his face. Christine smiled back with a giggle.

"Oh yes! I did! And I want to thank you again, Raoul. The Girys were very accommodating and I enjoyed being in pain with Meg's silly jokes." Raoul heard her snorting laugh and no matter how unladylike it was, he loved it with all his heart.

"I only did it for you, my sweet Christine. I know you would have loved it. So tell me, what are those jokes that Meg had caused you pain for?" asked Raoul as he grabbed a bottle of red wine on the desk and poured it on two glasses.

Christine and Raoul spent the whole day talking about her adventures, but a slight pang of guilt bothered Christine to her core. Excluding her visit with Erik was quite hard to do but seeing Raoul's smile made her melt on her seat. Meg was right, this was enough. Raoul's love and his arms were enough. She loved him. She loved his blue eyes and his compassionate heart. She loved everything about him, ever since he saved her scarf from the sea. Out of the blue while Raoul was talking about something, Christine muttered under her breath. "Marry me."

"What?" Raoul was quite stunned at the sudden mood.

"M-Marry me, Raoul. Promise me that you will love me forever. That's all I ask of you." said Christine with a big smile and eyes wet. Raoul heard himself gasp as he knelt in front of her with parted lips.

"God, Christine. Of course I will marry you. I will love you and we will grow old together. We will read our children the dark stories your father once read to us every night. We will soak our feet together under the sand of the seas. I will watch you play with our children under the sunlight and I will envelope and shower you with kisses and my love. I will give you the world if you wish it with just a word. Marry me, Christine and _I can die happy and content."_ As Raoul had said those words with all his heart and soul, Christine embraced him tightly, sharing the love he had released and cried her heart out with their love. She whispered him her endearments and slowly, kissed him gently. 

Meg was right. She belonged here, with Raoul.

Meg was right. She would forget the pain.

Meg was not right. She could not forget _him._

The church of Sainte-Clotilde opened their doors as the newly weds of the De Chagny family had finally emerged. Christine was sparkling with her pure white gown and veil and Raoul was dashing with his beige and gold suit. The guests threw flowers and ribbons around the couple as they both kissed with the eyes of the people of Paris to witness their love. She stared at Raoul's smiling blue eyes as she let go of his lips. "I love you." Raoul whispered to her ear. She whispered back her love and continued to smile for the guests to see. For the first time, Christine felt content and satisfied. Her love of her life on her arms and his warmth fluttered her heart. 

One by one, the family relatives and some friends embraced and kissed the wedded couple and to Christine's surprise, Philippe De Chagny did not shy away from her touch as he embraced her sincerely and kissed the top of her hand for the first time. Raoul smiled at his brother's sudden gesture. Although, that much did not apply to his sisters who only clapped at the corner of the crowd. He would have to talk to them soon.

Raoul felt a little impatient when some unknown relatives started speaking for their honor. He wanted to spend time with Christine alone tonight. He never felt this excited and desperate at the same time. He loved her and he would shower her with his love and worship. And for the first time of their lives, the Phantom was gone from their heads. Both of them performed several traditions such as eating cake and dancing until their feet ached. Christine only took advantage of his dismay and exhaustion when she kept on kissing him and pulling him in the middle of the ballroom. Raoul loved her even more and more every passing hour. Her smile, her eyes and her hair had already bewitched him. Every being of her had bewitched him. God, he did not deserve her.

After tiring hours had passed, Raoul and Christine ran to the master bedroom and laughed within the halls of the house with pure happiness and love. When Raoul gently closed the door, he observed Christine looking out from the window. The light inside the room was produced by the moonlight straight from the sky. She looked at the glowing orb fascinatingly when Raoul encircled his arms on her waist gently. He began to whisper short words near her ear, _My love. Mine. My dearest wife._

"I love you, Christine Daae."

"I love you, Raoul De Chagny."

Christine faced him from behind and gently caressed her husband's flushed cheek. She found his eyes, his nose and his lips and touched them softly. "You're beautiful." muttered Raoul.

Christine chuckled. "You're gorgeous." she muttered back. Raoul reached for her hand on his cheek and kissed it. **_"No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you. Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here with you, beside you. To guard you and to guide you."_** Raoul embraced her as he sang to her their song softly.

_**"Say you'll love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you'll need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you."** _

"I love you, with all my heart and soul. To hell with phantoms and evil fairy siblings, I love you! And I will protect you, even it would cost my life." said Raoul with a satisfying sigh. Christine could only do but sob at his words of love as he embraced her with tenderness. Christine loved this man and she was deceiving him. _Leave that place behind, Christine!_ Meg shouted the words in her mind. She looked at Raoul's eyes and slowly, allowing herself to succumb to the longing in her belly.

"I want you, Raoul." Just the words Raoul needed before he claimed her lips and kissed her with pure passion. Both of them slowly feeling the throb between their knees. For the first time of his life, Raoul De Chagny was on his knees begging for mercy and thanking the Gods for the woman in his arms.

"Oh, God. Christine. I love you so much." Raoul kissed her lips with fervor as she grasped his shoulders, feeling the warmth and shape of his muscles through his shirt. He savored every touch of her breath, her smooth hands on his arms and the softness of her plump lips. Her fingers twined on his nape, pulling him closer to her body. Raoul gently moved her towards the bed and when Christine felt the frame behind her knees, she slowly sat down while she ravished her husband's lips, pulling him to lean on top of her. She suddenly felt her body softened when Raoul held her against his chest and lay her down against the bed. 

His lips slowly parted from her and teasingly pressed it on her jaw and her neck. His teeth slowly grazed the warm flesh and Christine moaned softly in pleasure. _Erik did not use his teeth when he kissed her neck._ He kissed the pulse of her neck and made way on her clavicles, tracing the hard flesh to her shoulders. _Erik was not this delicate._

Raoul came back to her lips as he slowly tried to unlace the ties of her white dress, his fingers almost tickling her chest. _Erik did not try to remove my clothing._ When the last of the lace was untied, Raoul was welcomed with her porcelain, smooth skin and her breasts heaved every breath like ripe fruits waiting to be plucked. She was truly a goddess. "You are so beautiful, Christine. I don't deserve this gift you are giving me. I love you." he crooned, circling her nipples softly which made Christine whimper. _Erik praised me like that as well._

Christine felt her belly ache painfully. His breath tickled her chest as he softly sucked and licked the small flesh of her left breast while his hand caressed and kneaded on the right one. _Erik did not put his tongue on my body._ Christine felt like she was melting under his touch. He ravished her other breast while his hand slowly caressed her stomach. "You are so soft, so good." he whispered under his breath. The deft fingers hovered, slowly pulling away the rest of her skirt down to her legs and away from her body. Christine realized she was only wearing her drawers now. "Christine, you are Venus. Emerging from the sweet, foamed shell of the seas."

Christine only giggled at his flattering words then she noticed how covered he still looked. "Do not be unfair, my dear husband. You should not keep me waiting." whispered Christine near his ear.

"Forgive me, my dear. Your pleasure is much more important than mine." replied Raoul as he slowly ascended from her and started to remove his waistcoat and shirt. _Erik did not shove off his clothes and yet he looked beautiful._ Christine loved the lean stature of his body, his skin was sun tanned and as flawless as a woman's skin. He leaned on her once again and Christine hovered her fingers across his chest. "You're so warm." she muttered. Raoul only chuckled as he kissed her belly and down to her navel.

"Trust me, my beautiful angel." He went back to her lips as his fingers slowly moved to pull away her drawers. As he had finally accomplished his job on stripping her naked, she saw his delicate hand made way to the burning dip between her thighs. He parted her wet folds with a gentle graze of his smooth fingertip, now soaked with her warmth and essence. She heard him growl in pleasure. "You're so wet, my love. I got you now."

She felt his finger circling the sensitive pearl, piercing her body with pleasure like sharp claws. _Erik pleasured me like this before._

"Oh, Raoul. I-I want you!" she cried, hips thrusting slowly against his warm hand.

"Patience, my love. I'm here. I won't let you go." Christine swallowed a scream when his finger inserted her soaked dip deeply. It felt so good. _Erik inserted his finger deep inside her and she screamed in pleasure, to his satisfaction. It was so good!_ She whimpered loudly when her release finally came, brought spasms throughout her body. Raoul slowly removed his finger and kissed her lips with pure hunger. _Erik made her body shiver with just his soft breath of praises on her neck and his finger in her flesh._

"What do you want me to do, my love?" asked Raoul as he stared at her deep, green orbs. _I shall give you my soul and my heart if you want them, my Christine._

"You. I want you." answered Christine, shedding a tear from her sweet cheek. _Hush, my love. Let me wipe your tears and sorrows away._

"My love!" Raoul kissed the bothersome tears away from her cheek and gave attention to her lips, once again. Suddenly, a soft rustle of fabric and clanking metal woke Christine up. Raoul got rid of his pants and undergarment when he went back to her lips. Christine was shocked of how huge a man looked like in whole. _Was Erik also whole despite his deformity?_

"Take me, Raoul. Love me." He only smiled sweetly and lavished his attention to her breasts once again. The faint rasp of teeth and the warm tongue around the corner of her bud sent her body into small shivers, melting her into a sweet puddle. Christine could not wait any longer, she pulled his body more closer as she twined her legs around his hips, bracing for a new kind of pleasure she had never felt before. _Will it remove Erik from her mind?_

Raoul sought her mouth and plunged his tongue as he slowly entered inside her body. Their cries lingered around the walls of their bedroom. He began to move, a slow and deep surge drawing out from their bodies. Her hips arched to meet every blow and Raoul praised her whole being, acknowledging her warmth around him. _Damn you, Erik!_ Christine moaned as she asked him to move harder and faster. Raoul lapped up the drops of sweat from her neck and chest.

"Christine! I can't stop! I need to-" he breathed with desperation. He grabbed her hips and made her sit on his lap as he pushed inside her harder. Her fingers clawed on his back. _Christine, If you do not want this. I can stop._

 _Damn it, Erik! Don't stop!_ With a growl, he plunged into her hard, feeling their bodies tightened, bracing for the surge of waves to the shore.

Her body arched against his lean chest with a flowing success, her nails scarring his back. He erupted release from his body, inside her fragile being. Their loud moans echoed within the room like ghosts. Their muscles clenched with each other as Raoul embraced her shivering body, with his arms providing her warmth of a fireplace. Finally, love and safety had entangled their bodies like a soft blanket. This was heaven.

They collapsed in a sweaty state of embraced arms, gasping and shivering from the sudden cold that had emerged when they parted their legs from each other. Raoul nestled her head on his arm with a satisfying sigh, kissing the top of her wild curls. Christine caressed his heaving chest as she slowly succumbed to exhaustion and sleep. "I love you, Christine."

_Christine, I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter, Erik/Christine fans!


	11. The Passing Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other side of the light has come.

**The Passing Darkness**

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**La France Main Headline:** OPERA POPULAIRE'S LEADING SOPRANO, CHRISTINE DAAE FINALLY TIES THE KNOT WITH THE VICOMTE DE CHAGNY!

The first thing Erik did when he read the front page of his morning newspaper was to burn it away in his fireplace and scream the air from his lungs. All the heartbreak and burden he had carried within for the last five days had come clashing in his heart. In the middle of the Parisian woods, where he resided as a lonely resident, he screamed with all his might. He angrily threw some light furniture and display through the walls, continued screaming. With a heavy hand, he punched through the walls of his cabin and scratched its texture. When his throat could not produce any scratchy sound, he knelt on the parlor floor and started weeping for the loss of his life. His angel, his love and his heart. Married! How could he survive that?

For a few moments, he remained still at the corner of his home and cried until his eyes could not shed a tear anymore. Even during the cool, sunny morning, he was burning with grief and his hands bled with fury. "Christine..." Erik whispered repeatedly under his breath. His loneliness was slowly killing him inside and it was hard for him to keep it forever in his heart. _It_ _would hurt more if you let the pain consume you._ She was right. But she was gone. Who would listen to him now?

 _ **"You chose this pain, you coward! You let her go and here you are suffering!"**_ the voice in his head, singing curses once again. Now was not the time for this madness!

"Damn you! I did what I had to do!" he spoke in the middle of the emptiness of his home.

_**"Cry there like a child! You will never have her anymore, you monster!"** _

"I will never have her, anyway. What's the use?" he thought of the night he and Christine had conversed. She loved the Vicomte and she wanted to be with him forever. He was the right man for her, a man who can give her the world in a silver platter. But what about poor, unhappy Erik? What could he give, aside from stack of lined paper and useless pleas? He had no life, no family, and no wealth. Just a beating, dead heart.

He removed his black mask and wiped the tears from his deformed cheek. He sneered at the slight pain near his lip. No matter how Christine survived the abhorrence of his face, he knew he would not let her look at it forever. It was a curse and not for Christine to suffer. 

He numbly stood from the ground and began to search for a new mask in his closet. As far as he remembered, he had saved four masks from his lair and he chose the flesh colored mask under his porcelain white one. It was sculpted, similar to the structure of his white mask except that its color was made from his complexion. If one would look at him from a distance, it was not much a sight to see. It was intended for traveling outside.

He hurriedly went in the bathroom to wash his face and change his waistcoat and shirt. He gently put the flesh mask on his face and swept the black wig on his head. When he was confident enough of his appearance, he reached for his black hat and cloak and made out through the door.

Erik was standing in front of a small, stone house near the main village. The front yard was flocked with orchids and roses and cackling hens moved behind the small fence for the poultry. The stones built as walls sparkled with white and yellow hues which slightly made Erik squint his eyes from the reflected light. The house was too beaming for just a blind man and a mute son to live in. But Erik guessed that the jovial attitude of the Leroys was the main cause of this humble home. He gasped as he realized he looked too dark under a sunny residence. He shrugged the thought away.

He steadily knocked the blue door three times before Monsieur Charles Leroy's voice was heard from the other side. "Just a minute, Monsieur! Marius, open the door!" Erik smiled when he heard the small footsteps coming to him. When the boy opened the door for him, he was surprised when Marius Leroy gasped in joy and began to run towards his father to sign on his palm. The middle aged man smiled widely in return.

"Well, if it isn't our masked friend! Come inside, Monsieur! Make yourself comfortable." Charles Leroy gracefully welcomed Erik into his home with a huge smile on his face as if he was expecting him to come at all. His heart slightly fluttered at the sight of his hosts and their home. The inside was as sunny as the outside. Unlike Erik's home, it looked like a woman's space. The blue and yellow floral wallpapers surrounded the walls and the furniture were all painted in white. They also had a shelf of books at the parlor similar to Erik's. "My wife made most of the arrangements here and we gladly did not change anything even after she died. It is to keep her memory." Charles said as though he heard Erik through his mind.

"It is very fine, Monsieur Charles. Thank you for having me here." Erik replied. They offered them to sit on the fauteuil opposite Charles' seat. Marius came back from the kitchen with a tray of lemon and tea. Erik sighed a relief when it was not sugar instead. He suddenly remembered Christine. 

Marius poke his shoulder and demonstrated a hand sign for him to communicate, "Why are your eyes red, Monsieur?" he said with his small fingers. Erik flinched and his face gloomed. He did not answer the boy but he remained silent for a few moments. None of them talked until Erik finished the last spurt of his lemon. He breathed a defeating sigh.

"I feel heavy, Monsieur. I don't feel so good." he muttered weakly. Charles tongue clicked twice and stared blindly at the center table. 

"I had sensed it through your voice, Monsieur Erik-"

"Please, just call me Erik. I'm not an honorable man for such formalities." Erik swayed his hand to the air. Charles only nodded.

"Well then, Erik. You may also call me Charles. As I've said, you grew quite weary the last time I saw you. What has happened?" Charles scooted his seat closer to Erik, like a father listening to his child. Erik sighed again. He needed to tell someone and at least, if they were willing to share his burden. 

"The woman I told you about, Christine. She married the man she truly loved today. And I was heartbroken." Erik replied and fresh tears began to fall from his soft eyes once again. Marius furrowed his brows in sadness and slowly patted Erik's shoulder. He smiled at the boy's little gesture.

"Poor man. It is unfortunate, indeed." The blind man muttered with sympathy. Erik only shook his head in frustration. He hated how people would pity his situation and he despised having not said what he wanted to say. 

"No, It's-" he pinched his temple and breathed a forced sigh, once again. "She came to visit me last week, the night after you both left my cabin." He noticed Charles moved closer again. 

"Oh! Now that's interesting. What was the reason of her visit?" Charles asked as Marius finally sat beside Erik, waiting for a pat on the head. Erik finally stared at the man's gray, empty eyes. He was fascinated with their dullness.

"Well, she wanted to see me to...make amends and ask for my advice, considering I was her former mentor. I did what I can do for her and she...She forgave me." Erik abruptly sipped the warm tea to clear his perched throat. Charles listened to him attentively. Little did Erik know, Charles had the talent to point some holes in every conversation. He was blind yet he had a critical eye. Erik's story had so much terms that were not mentioned the last time they met.

"I understand what you mean, son but-What should she have to forgive about you?" Erik narrowed his eyes and finally realized that the man had already prepared his good questions. But then Erik was taken aback. If he had to reveal anything, it would mean spilling the secrets. He was a criminal and Christine was the victim of love and obsession. He suddenly had the urge to look at Marius's eyes. The boy stared at him through his soul. It made Erik shudder in anxiety.

 _ **"Monsieur. Don't be afraid. Say what you want to say... Don't let the words block your heart. Don't let it burn your soul. Share your load for you are weary."**_ Charles sang as he finally stood and sat on Marius' chair, nearest to Erik's right side of his face. He carried Marius on his lap. His son hand signed again on his palm, "I think he's scared, papa."

"I know, my son. Let us give him a moment." he whispered to the boy's ear. Erik closed his eyes and cupped his face with his pale hands. He never trusted anyone. He did not want to trust anyone. He did not want to be owed to anyone. _Trust me, angel._ He never trusted anyone except Christine. _I had to change for the better of my life._ He slipped a gaze to the father and son. Marius smiled at him with assurance as though the boy knew he was fighting inside his mind. 

Should he trust this man? _If he betrays me._ No, he would not betray him. He was kind and he had a son. He had welcomed him and did not send him away even after he lashed out to them once. The boy was innocent but he was smart. He was his father's eyes and he knew. He knew he was not truly Monsieur Erik Daae. They knew he was not just the man in a mask. He was " _ **I am the Phantom of the Opera."**_

He heard them both gasp softly. But their eyes did not change, it was still warm and familiar. Erik began to sweat coldly as he shuddered in anxiety. He suddenly felt his throat dry again and he reached for the remaining liquid of his tea and drank it straight. He clasped his fingers tightly together and his left leg began to twitch. 

Charles Leroy was, indeed, shock of the revelation. The Phantom of the Opera. The man haunting the Opera Populaire. According to the neighbors, the said ghost had made quite an appearance during the theater's latest opera the last few weeks ago. The high society would even say he was horridly deformed and had a voice of a deity. He was heaven blessed until the young soprano unmasked him in front of a hundred crowd. It was an intriguing subject for the gossips but Charles would often shrug them away. He was always hesitant of rumors and apparitions. But now the rumored ghost was here on their territory. But the ghost was no ghost, but a man. A man with an angelic, sad voice and to Marius, a man with soft, earthly eyes. He softly sighed.

"So it's true, then. The rumors of you kidnapping Miss Christine Daae?" Charles said, almost melancholically. Erik felt a sting from his words. He sneered and rested a hand on the armrest of his chair. He thought he was gonna melt into a puddle on his seat. This would be the first time he would confide to a person other than Christine and the Daroga, a stranger! But he thought of the man as an honest kind, especially with his consoling attitude. If anything, Erik would just simply hide away in the corner if ever so they would reject and disgust him. He was a wanted man, after all. Who would want to associate with him? 

"Yes. I kidnapped the only woman I had ever loved and tried to force her to marry me. But I'm not a monster, no. She said I was not. She wanted me to believe it and I had to let her go again. It was too much. She was too much." He led out a small whimper as he had completely let his tears fall on his cheeks. She gasped for air and found that he could not actually breath with his cravat tight on his neck. 

Marius ran to the kitchen that made Erik quiver in anxiety. He stood at the corner of the room and began stumbling weakly. Charles also stood and tried to reach for the Phantom's touch. "I scared you! I scared your boy! I was right! This is not working! It won't work for me, this telling of my life! Oh God, Christine!" He knelt at the corner and covered his ears as voices began to sing curses at him, once again.

Charles felt the beating of foot at his left side and knelt in front of Erik. Instinctively, he sought his forearm and grabbed onto it. Erik flinched to the touch but the blind man did not let go. "It's alright, son. Hush. No one's scared of you here. I understand and I, very much, appreciate your trust on me and for my boy. Deep breaths, Erik. Clear the voices." Charles soothed carefully to the gasping man, his hold on his arm tight and safe. Marius came back with a glass of water and a startled face. When Erik saw the boy behind his father, he laughed at himself.

He was just getting him a glass of water! _Damn you, Erik!_

"Come, Erik. Please sit down. Tell me everything you wish to say. In my house, you are neither a Phantom nor a monster. Phantoms only lived in books Marius reads." Charles spoke, comfortingly. Erik gave a few breaths before he helped Charles stand and sit with him. He wiped his tears and unconsciously cursed himself for being such a broken man. He hated being this way. He hated being helpless. He hated being weak. Marius gave him his glass and he voraciously drank it to wet his throat. He loosened his cravat and removed his cloak from his shoulders. He thought he would like to stay for a little while.

"Thank you, Marius. I'm sorry for the...charade I did." Erik apologized and cleared his throat. His host only chuckled in dismay. 

"It is quite alright. I do that sometimes when I feel a little suffocated. I want to apologize also. I did not mean to cause you distress from my reaction." Charles replied and Erik only chuckled at his humility. Charles and his son sat back on their own seats while they waited for Erik for a moment of his own time. 

"As I've said, I was the rumored Opera Ghost. I've spent my life living under the Opera Populaire for the last ten years. Not because I wanted to but I had to. Everyone must have known that I had murdered innocent men. I had no means of justifying my crimes but all I did were meant to be a product of my sorrow and hate. I will understand if I will be reported to the authorities after this. Who would want to talk to a tainted man like me?" Erik spoke with a deep certainty within his voice which slightly made their skin crawl. His voice was, indeed, a gift from the heavens. Charles almost felt he was talking to a fallen saint. But every note of his words spat venom.

"I would, Erik. And I'm sitting in front of you right now. Please tell me more about yourself rather than the things I've already heard from the neighbors." The elder man said with a tint of authority. It was surprising of Erik to see this side of his. He realized he was really willing to listen to him as much as he wanted him to. Erik nervously cleared his throat and pulled the edge of his tailcoat. He stared at the boy on his father's lap, who was looking at him innocently.

"For years of my life, I've been travelling to the ends of the world. All of them I ended up all the same. Caged, whipped, spat on, tied and screamed at with disgust and judgement. The opera house was my only solitude and my kingdom of music. I've spent days and nights listening through melodies and jotting them down until they end. I thought it was all that I can do with my life. That If I ever go out from my own cage, I would burn and sink under the ground again. I had only a few people to trust, which I knew I had already scared away because of the horrible incident." Erik breathed a faint sigh and steadied his gaze at the empty glass on his table.

"I met the soprano the first day I went back to the opera house from Per-some foreign country I traveled in. She was... in mourning that time. I sang to her that night in the chapel behind the stage. I grew fond of her as though we were one and the same. She was crying for the loss of her father and I was crying for the loss of my humanity. At first, she thought I was her _angel of music_ sent by her father from the heavens."

"You sounded like an angel just now, Monsieur. I am very fond of your way of speech. It was not almost... usual." Charles chuckled, unable to describe Erik's voice with the right term. Marius noticed a faint curve from the corner of their guest's lips.

"A demon with an angel's voice was the common definition." Erik replied with a huff. Charles only sighed in defeat. What made this man loath himself as low as possible?

"Oh no. Definitely not that. Anyway, please continue." Charles only patted his shoulder. Erik nodded in acceptance.

"I taught Christine Daae how to sing. I gave her my voice and she sang wonderfully. She was not like the others. She was... kind, gentle and beautiful. She grew up to be that way. I was at loss. I realized I could never love her the same way that I loved her when she was still a child. I never thought the day would come that I would... fascinate her. And it was not normal. No. Not for a man like me. I became more jealous, envious and angrier for worse. I had a need to see her everyday and I was afraid that one day someone would take her from me." 

"And it happened. The Vicomte De Chagny came into her life. I had no ways to compare. A handsome man with a tower of gold at his back. What am I, aside from a murderous man in a mask? The voices started shouting, cursing in my head. I could not stop and I had to follow. I had to do what they would have to say, because I thought it would, somehow, work. That she would abide and stay with me. I did not realize I'm already causing her harm until..." Erik stopped for another moment and looked back to his listeners. He was relieved that their ears were still attentive enough. Marius gave him a rapid nod. 

"The night of Don Juan Triumphant made me realize that I don't deserve her. I was not the man for her and I was forcing her to pick up the pieces of my life and fix it with her presence. Nothing can piece back a broken glass. You can fix it with an adhesive but it was still cracked on the outside and water will leak, eventually. What a true meaning of my being! Horrendous! I set her free from my grasp ever since. She loved the Vicomte and I accepted her say. At least for the first time, I made her smile and sing for me one last time." Charles heard a faint sniff from the masked man and he knew he was crumbling on his seat by now. His heart humbled for his guest. 

Charles Leroy realized one thing. He was in need of affection. Affection through acknowledgement. Affection through love. Affection through friendship. The man had to do things he had to regret in the end, in order to belong in the world. Was the world so much greedy to offer some little blessing? Was the world created by God had to be so cruel? He knew that feeling. He was born blind and he knew he had no choice but to ask people for help everyday. He had to clung on every shoulder and he had to crave for a voice in the middle of the night. He could not do much work on his own to survive if it were not for his beloved wife. She loved him so much and helped him through most of the years of his life. But the world had to take her away too. He and Erik were, likely, the same. The world had to claim the only things they cared for, no matter how little it was. He remembered the nights when he tried reaching within the darkness of his sight, with only his ten year old son to touch. His beautiful, kind boy whom he loved with all his heart and soul. He prayed to God every night not to take him away. He prayed to God every night not to let him suffer with the same fate as he had. Even with the difficulty to mutter a single word, he was, in other ways, smart and industrious.

Erik might be a murderer in front of the law's eyes. But inside, he was a good man. He knew that since the night they met him. Poor, unhappy Erik.

"What you did was a thing that you will surely understand and see in time. Sometimes the world does not see who we are. The people are afraid of what and who is different. There is always envy and hate. All we have to do is prove them wrong every time we wake up. We all just gotta surprise other people of what we can do. I may be blind but I know I see something in you. You had a voice, indeed! I hear other voices shouting praises near my ears! Oh! Some fat baron with a black mustache asking who graced the stage with a wonderful presence! It's Monsieur Erik Daae with a K!" Charles spoke with glee which made Erik smile. He suddenly could not stop himself from laughing along with them. "You hear that? Even his laugh is contagious!" For a few moments they laughed aloud from their lungs, not minding the world's reality outside of their walls. Erik had never felt this calm and happy before. The father and son brought the best out of him. He felt his heart lighter than usual. Just like what Christine did for him, they had shared his burden willingly from him.

"Thank you for this wonderful advice. I never thought you would actually accept me." Erik thanked and patted Marius's head softly.

"No one's causing any harm so it is fine. If you are willing, as you say, to open your doors a little wide, I suggest you visit the village or walk with us during Sunday mornings. Some neighbors were into gossip but you will find them agreeable. There is Monsieur and Madame Bolligny, they are the kindest innkeepers in town and there's Monsieur Michel, the owner of the most finest restaurant in the town of Provins! I hear he is currently looking for a pianist to play for the customers. Lots of them here, you can chat with them if you like. They call me the Cheeky Charlie here!" Charles said, slapping Erik's shoulder humorously. Erik snorted jokingly.

"I will try your suggestion, Charles. Thank you. But..." Charles snapped out of his trance when he noticed Erik's change of tone. "But I'm still a wanted man and I carry too many crimes on my back. I had to, at least, find a way to figure this problem out first."

"If you are afraid of your own actions, If I may ask, have you tried confessing in church?" Charles asked Erik with a slight fear. Erik furrowed his brows and stood from his seat gently. He went to stare out from their window and exhaled a sigh.

"I do not believe in God. Not ever since I ran away from my birth home." Erik spoke sternly.

"You do not have to change your values when it comes to confessing your sins. I know you chose to talk to me to reduce your weariness. But I do not know how to spare you from your sins. It may help as It did for me. Try talking to the priest at the nearest church. You don't have to tell him the truth of what you just told me, if you are afraid of what will be the risk." Charles stood from his seat to grab for Erik's hard shoulder. Erik lifted his gaze to the older man.

"Will it help me? I don't trust priests." Erik replied, doubtfully.

"You don't need to do anything, son. Just say what you wanted to say and confess what you feel about it. I assure you, it would feel better if someone forgives you."

"What if the church won't forgive me? Then I will be condemned forever!" He carefully removed Charles' palm from his shoulder.

"Then they are not the church! God forgives the worst in us. If you are able to forgive someone like Christine Daae, why not the Lord?" Charles grabbed both of his shoulders and stared blindly at Erik's soft eyes. "And if God is able to forgive you, why not yourself?" Every word that he muttered dawned on Erik. It was infuriating! God and human life! And It was taking a toll on him. He only slumped his shoulders in defeat and stared back at his grey, empty eyes.

"I guess I had no choice, then."

"It will be just fine, Erik. Trust me." _Trust me, my angel._

Erik bid his farewell to the Leroys when the sun was almost down. It was a quite a noisy, beautiful afternoon when he decided to take the walk through the main road of Provins. His flesh mask was still intact as he gently removed his hat from his slick head. As he passed by freely in town, some of the people would stare at him but they would normally avert their gazes as though it was a usual sight to see. He went to the fruits stall and called for the lady vendor, crocheting a scarf. "What do you need, Monsieur?"

"I-I need a kilo of those bananas. And some apples as well." Erik said with a soft voice. The lady stared momentarily at his mask and silently grabbed some fruits for him. Erik was fidgeting in anxiety. Too much people and too much attention. This was probably not a good idea after all.

"You a soldier, Monsieur?" Erik abruptly lifted his gaze to the gruff old man behind the stall. Erik flinched but replied with a normal tone. "Y-Yes. A Zouave, specifically. From the Papal States."

"Ah yes! I know them! That's where you got your face, If I may humbly ask?" If Erik had a chance to lie, why not now?

"A fire got me, accidentally during the last year of my service. The army had to give me up, unfortunately." Erik replied with a forced smile.

"Oh, bless you. Lucky you survived. We should be thankful for that. Say, how'd you ended up in our little village?" As the man spoke, some neighbors began to flock around Erik. Erik exhaled a sigh. Dreadful crowd!

"I-I was aggravated with the busy town I used to live in. While I was enjoying the first years of my retirement, I had to take care of my uncle's inn near the Seine. I just got here a few days ago."

"Hmm! Well, then welcome to our noisy, exotic town. Hope you might enjoy here than the noise from the square. Lots'a rumors out there, the gossips won't stop speaking about it! Never mind the brats looking at you, there are some service men staying here too, for the sake of peace." The man closely patted his back which made Erik shudder slightly. This was... too much. 

The vendor tapped his shoulder and gave him the bag of fruits. "Merci." Erik muttered.

"Say, where do you live?" An mid aged lady asked him from his side while he walked to the grocery stall. So many questions! Erik sneered.

"I lived in the cabin a few steps from here." The few people walking with him gasped in horror.

"Good Lord! You live in the dead family's house? I thought there were ghosts there!" A think, pale lassie spoke.

"Nonsense! There are no ghosts here! It was just abandoned!" The gruff old man replied, grumpily. Erik only chuckled.

"Calm down, there are no ghosts there! Goodness, have you been listening to your grandmother's old stories?" Erik laughed quite sincerely to his newly found guests of his presence. The gruff man named Mathis only laughed with him. "See told you no ghosts here! Get it in your heads! It's been abandoned for thirty years!"

"True. But of course, it's scary living in a murdered family's house." The thin lady named Lea huffed in defeat. 

"I did not know much of the story but whatever it is, I don't care." Erik replied sternly. He moved his way to the dairy stall and sighed a relief when some of the crowd began to disperse with only Mathis and a boy named Tom, shopping with him.

"Forgive my manners, I'm Erik Daae." Erik introduced and shook hands with the two of them. They both chuckled in delight.

"I work there at Monsieur Michel's restaurant as a guard and Tom here works as one of the waiters. Perhaps you could pay a visit, we had the finest dishes there that you would surely love!" Mathis swayed his arms in demonstration. Erik only nodded. "I will, in due time. I'm currently seeking work."

"There are lots here, Monsieur Erik. Michel's looking for a pianist if you are a music gent. The innkeepers are looking for a guard and a waiter. And this grocery stall a vendor." Tom replied with a sniff from his nose. Erik smiled flatly. "I'll think about it. For now, may I ask where's the church here?"

Mathis pointed his finger to the right side of the intersection road. Erik temporarily left their company and while carrying a bag of fruits and necessities, he went straight to the nearest church of the town.

Erik loved the Medieval design of the homes in Provins. He knew that one day this would be a wonderful tourist spot for foreigners. It was picturesque and peaceful enough for a man such as himself. A good place to hide and change for the better of his life. He imagined himself and Christine walking along the road during Sunday Mornings. She would have loved this town as much as he did now. The town was a little far away from Paris, and would have spent an hour journey if one would ride a train. But considering his situation, he had to travel by foot. It took him almost a few nights of exhaustion. It was worth it, he would have to thank Madame Giry once again.

The church of Église Catholique Collégiale Saint-Quiriace stood gorgeously and tall in front of Erik's eyes. The building was a beautiful design to behold. His critical eye for architecture began to rise from the depths of his heart. The only thing he cared for churches was how they were all established, the strength of their foundations and the details which beautified their interiors. Their purpose for religion were not of his concern. But tonight would be different. He had to. _If only Christine could see him now._ He slightly curled his mouth downward.

The church was currently occupied by a few number of the townspeople. Especially the elderly. Some of them would stare at Erik but his mind was too dazed to care. He took the left side aisle towards the confession room. Where a servant of God resided. He felt himself burning in frustration. He stared at the numerous eyes from the painted idols. He felt his skin crawl. He gently knocked on the door of the confession booth and heard a faint click of the lock. He stood there for almost a minute until his feet slowly ascended to the room's sacred ground. The darkness within the room scared him, bit by bit. It reminded him of his former cage, the opera underground and the attic in his mother's house. God! What are you, Erik? Scared of a church?

"Monsieur?" A thin, old voice spoke from the other side of his booth. Erik exhaled a sigh and muttered the hardest words he had ever spoken, "Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned. My last confession was..." Erik paused. The priest on the other side waited patiently.

"No, I had never went once. I'm not a believer of God." Erik replied, quite bitterly. The old priest only nodded in response. "Yes?"

"I-I had spent my whole life lurking in the darkness. I had spent my whole life cursing God and his scriptures. I had spent my whole life escaping my bonds. And for that, I had killed innocent men." Everything in his life was nothing but a whirlpool of blood and tears. His years with the gypsies was the first time he had shed blood. His years in Persia a thousand times more. His years in the Opera Populaire, twice. He could not count anymore of how many of them had families nor lovers waiting for them. Erik did not care anymore. It was his form of compassion. But all those sins had come rushing to him with just one look through her green, shiny eyes. 

"I had loved. And I had killed for her. Yet I had to set her free. She forgave me. Am I deserving of this reward?" Erik sat in silence, waiting for the priest to respond to his confession. A confession of a murderer, which might send chills to anyone's spine. The old priest only sighed.

"Looks like God has already forgiven you, my son." Erik lifted his gaze and squinted his sight. "What?"

"The lady you cherish with your life has forgiven you. If God cannot forgive you, why would she?" Erik stopped for a moment and began to nod in response to the priest's words.

"God can do so many things for us. He loved you through our parents, through our friends and through our loved ones."

"My mother hated me. I was deformed since birth, which made her job easier to do!" Erik huffed in anger. The priest sighed again.

"Men can be cruel, Monsieur. You can be cruel and so am I. But it does not stop there, you see. God works at the right place and on the right time. For a hundred years, the slaves of Israel waited for a savior to come and there came Moses. For a hundred years, Israel waited for a king to rule and there came David." The priest replied, with a comforting voice.

"I don't understand!" He raked his hair in frustration.

 _ **"Israel waited for a hundred years to redeem him, save him and care for him. Who came for him, in the darkness?"**_ the priest sang through the wooden frame, between them. The music began to play in Erik's mind. Her voice lingered in his ears. _Save me! Love me!_

 _ **"Christine..."**_ She was Moses. She was David. She was his forgiver and savior. He loved her. She had forgiven him.

"Forgive me..." he sobbed through the divider and the priest sighed in relief when Erik had finally realized the truth. "Pray to the Lord, my son. Or better yet, talk to her." 

_Forgive me, Christine. For causing you pain. For hurting you. For singing to you. For loving you. I have sinned against you yet you had chosen to forgive me and open my eyes. You had chosen to forgive me and made me realize what I had done. It all came down upon me and it hurts. Their screams! Their cries! Their pleas I had never heard from my ears before! They are trying to pull me with them! They are trying to make me suffer! Help me, Christine. Take me to your light! Guide me! Sing for me to sleep, once again. Help me stand from the ground. Teach me to live and give me the strength to try. No more bad memories and silent tears. No more gazing back the wasted years._

_Help me say goodbye._

_**"May God bless you and be with you. In the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."** _ _Christine, I love you._

"Whatever words we had spoken here, will remain inside these walls. It is alright, young Gabriel." The priest said kindly before he walked out from his booth. Erik stifled a sob. God, have mercy on my soul. 

Erik stepped out of the booth, terribly composed. He walked towards the pipe organ near the altar. He led his pale fingers through the buttons and started to push some notes. The melody came booming around the church and some of the visitors lifted their gazes to Erik. When he realized his trembling fingers and strange gazes from the people around him, he sprinted away outside the church. It was almost six in the evening when he observed the villagers walking around the road. Erik began to walk straight home. 

He looked upon a corner restaurant at Rue Saint Thibault. At this time of night, it was dined in by a group of businessmen and small families. It was jovial and romantic. The owner, Monsieur Michel and his guard, Mathis chatted in front of the entrance. Erik found himself standing in front of the restaurant, staring through the panel windows.

"Ah! Monsieur Erik!" Mathis called out to him and patted his shoulder. "What a good evening to see you! Everything's been well in the house of the mighty?" 

"Ah yes. Indeed It has been better." Erik replied with a small smile. Monsieur Mathis pushed him in front of the man he was chatting with. He was a tall, brooding middle aged man with a huge mustache on top of his lips and his gray hair slicked back to his nape. He wore a clean, evening suit and small towel hanged on his shoulder. "Monsieur Michel. This is Monsieur Erik Daae. He's new here!"

Monsieur Michel stared at him from head to toe but more skeptical at his face. The mask bothered him slightly but he shrugged it off. "Ah! Mathis told me all about you! A military man, indeed. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Monsieur Michel. What a fine establishment you have here." Erik took a moment to look at the interior of the restaurant. It was designed purposely to be a medieval tourist spot. The walls were still made from stone bricks with arch vaults supporting the weight of the ceiling. The flooring was exquisitely made from mosaic pieces and the furniture was intended for a bigger crowd. There are some corner tables intended for couples to eat. And in the middle of the room, there stood a black and sleek pianoforte. Erik smirked in delight.

"Yes, indeed. The most known in the town of Provins! Not being big headed but it's true." Monsieur Michel chuckled under his beard. Erik stood near the piano and observed it for a little while. He pressed every note precisely. The two gentlemen observed him with fascination. Michel was startled when the masked man spoke with a delightful tone. He almost did not believe Mathis for describing his voice. The man also walked gracefully around his main attraction, as though he was worshiping it with inspiration.

"Monsieur Mathis here said that you are looking for a pianist, Monsieur Michel?" Erik lifted his gaze to them with a smirk on his lips. The men widened their eyes but Monsieur Michel was the first one to snap away. 

"Yes, Monsieur Erik! I've been without an instrument for a month now! Our former pianist had retired due to his health. Not much people here are into music! Paris is just too far to look for someone." the gentleman replied with a click of his tongue. Erik nodded and stared at the piano once again. 

The two pairs of eyes stared at the shining, black cloak of the new resident and the small smile from his lips. "Well then, consider yourself lucky, Monsieur Michel! I shall play for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Some points here regarding the town of Provins and the church confession are inaccuracy intended. Also, I think I need to describe Erik's new characterization here. Ever since the Final Lair scene, he was not the same Phantom we knew in the Opera Populaire. He was changed since then and I had to instill new changes here too such as him acting as a child sometimes, or a hopeless romantic type of guy. And some might wonder the quick pacing. A few weeks has passed in this timeline and Erik still needs a little improvement. But before he was the Phantom, he was a french guy with human class and dignity. He had studied people from behind mirrors. So I had to include that too, when it comes to him socializing with people. He was still awkward, though but improving. 
> 
> I actually inspired the new characters from former Phantom actors:
> 
> Colm Wilkinson - The Priest  
> Mathis - John Owen Jones  
> Charles Leroy - Earl Carpenter  
> Michel - Anthony Warlow
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading the chapter and I truly appreciate all your comments and perspectives with the characters. I intended all of them to be lovable (including Raoul). Till the next chapter!


	12. The First Letters

**The First Letters**

**╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗**

**╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝**

**MARCH 05 1882 PROVINS, FRANCE**

Erik almost leapt in joy when he had finally finished reading the rest of Christine's letter. It was almost the afternoon of his visit to the Leroys on a tuesday when the post came knocking on his door for the first time. The post man said that the letter came from Paris where the Girys currently resided. According to Christine, she had sent a letter to Meg along with his letter, tucked within a bigger parchment. To avoid any suspicions from the Vicomte or from anyone, Meg sent his letter once again straight to his home. That would be the monthly activity of the three of them. He only smiled. _Bravo, my lovely Christine._

He would write a reply tonight and hoped that he would have the courage to tell her everything that he had accomplished for the last few days. But first, he would have to go straight to the Leroys to pick some lemons.

"A letter came from the post. It's Christine." Erik suddenly muttered while he sat on the doorstep of the Leroys' residence, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Marius ran towards his side and sat along with him. He patted the boy's head playfully.

"Oh dear! What did she say?" Charles shouted from the kitchen which made Erik laugh. He carried Marius with him while he walked to the kitchen to see Charles cutting some onions. Erik was impressed on how the elder man could do housework without his eyes. He was critical, just like him.

"She asked me If I was taking care of myself. Can you believe it? She would actually ask me that and here I am neglecting myself." He chuckled, along with a faint sob. Marius encircled his little arms around his neck and Erik held him tightly in support. Charles only laughed at his dismay. Charles finished cutting the vegetables when Erik spoke again. "What do you think I should write back? She had been so caring for me and I don't think I had been a genius for a long time."

"Erik, there is no exact and good replies for the person you truly love. Say anything like what you had been doing with us here, picking our lemons or your playing in Michel's restaurant. She would absolutely love reading those things about you." Charles patted his back in assurance as he went back to his cooking. Erik only nodded in reply. He set Marius down to his father when he felt his back ache a little. 

"Maybe I should. She would have loved that rather than my self loathing activities-"

"Erik..."

"I mean! Yes! She would have loved that, Monsieur!" Erik palmed his face when he sounded like a defeated old husband. Marius laughed at the sight. He had allowed Charles to scold him whenever he tried to say things horribly about himself. In times, Erik could not stop himself. It had been his mantra ever since he was born. To the point that he was like a child. Erik knew that he should be an adult but when it came to issues like love or safety, he never passed that point since his toddlerhood. In his eyes, he was, indeed, a child. Desperate and hungry for it.

Charles Leroy had felt all of his ticks ever since he visited for the first time in their home. He felt his mood swings that was quite unexpected for him and Marius. True, it was hard to keep a man such as Erik for a long time but day by day, Charles had wanted to keep Erik with them like a family. He knew the man never felt the true meaning of friendship and love, but he was trying to learn so much. Charles was willing to provide him an example. He would sometimes feel Erik whimper and sneer with no reason at the same time. But deep within his soul, Erik was a man with so many feelings. Feelings that he did not notice from himself yet. Fortunately, Marius grew very fond of the man. He would often invite him to read for him or sing for him to sleep.

"I miss her." Erik mumbled while he stared at the steady figure of the blind man. Charles chuckled faintly.

"Tell her that! Not me!" They both chuckled. Erik helped him prepare their lunch on the table and Marius sat immediately on his seat. "Going for the first, are we?" Erik asked the boy teasingly. Marius only stuck his tongue out in response.

As they both sat on their dining seats and ate their food, Charles cleared his throat and spoke, "I think you should tell her all things that has happened within the last few days. The job, new friends, the funny laugh Tom releases from his throat or even us if you wish so."

"Yes, I will. It's the least I can do for her. She had not said much about her life, all she said to me was how tiring it was." Erik replied before he chewed his meat.

"The life of a royalty is always tiring. Not just with their jobs or wealth, the talking and dancing are the most frustrating things they had to do."

"What about singing?" Erik averted his gaze to the man's grey eyes.

"Michel had knowledge about the high society and he often tells us about it during his free parties. He frequently meets Comtes and Barons of any kind. Not much of those people wanted anything about music. Just gossip and nonsense." Charles replied and set his eyes to his steak for the last time. Erik flinched at the sudden realization. _Christine could not sing._ The high society despised the idea of music and talent in their expertise. It was too much of a hard work and for them, a waste of time. Dancing was adequate, it was a necessary attempt to lead in suitors and women. But singing was not a good option. Men and women, combined. How Erik loathed them. He worried for Christine for a moment.

"Although, the high society has good points too. Rich you are, yes. Handsome and beautiful, indeed. Privileges and patronage, a good one. And wealth, even if you are six feet underground." Erik chuckled at the sudden darkness of Charles' last joke. The elder man only apologized for such a remark but he was only being true. Erik knew the Vicomte's wealth was always there and Christine would not worry about losing them or her new title. She was now a Vicomtess, a kick to Erik's stomach. She was royalty now. If he could, he would bow down on her feet and worship her. But he knew Christine would not want that. She was, as always, simple and beautiful. 

"She must have looked like an exquisite princess in a kingdom now." Erik smiled at the thought.

"Indeed, she must have. With a pumpkin turning into a carriage and rats into horses. Then she would have ran down the stairs and left a glass shoe." Charles laughed at his own thought. 

"You are reading too much children's stories, Monsieur." 

"Indeed, I am. I must blame you and Marius for that." Both of them laughed together until Erik grabbed his pocket watch and notice the time. He bid his farewell to the Leroys and reached for his cloak and hat on the rod. It was almost five in the afternoon and he had finally set his feet to town.

The sun was already behind the mountain when Erik entered the restaurant through the backdoor along with a few employees with him. He opened his own locker and set down his hat and shabby cloak inside. He changed into his clean shirt and beige waistcoat. He tied the brown cravat comfortably around his neck. He exhaled a loud sigh to compose himself and swept his jet black hair. He touched the right side of his face and assured that the flesh mask was still there. It was always the first day of the job every night. Erik would stay in the locker room for a few minutes until he was good enough to go out in public again, entertaining the guests with his playing. 

Monsieur Michel had been a kind employer to him. He respected his distance and privacy with regards to his mask. All they had to know was that he was a man in the wrong place and on the wrong time. Few of the waiters worked for him for almost ten years and to Erik's surprise, Monsieur Mathis had been his guard for twenty five years. He also liked how Michel pays his employees with honesty and pride. Erik had fallen in love with the establishment. The noises did frustrate Erik sometimes but whenever he pushed the first note, everything would be quiet and full of his music. 

Michel was very glad to hire Erik as his musician. Businessmen would sometimes flock around in his company and ask about the man's skills. But he was a businessman too, and he would certainly not give his boy up easily. To his relief, Erik was not much of a tattletale or a demanding man. He looked like he was always satisfied on what he earned for every night and with their small company. But he also noticed how Erik would often separate himself from the people as though he had not been taught much how to socialize. The only few people he would talk to was him, Monsieur Mathis and Tom and the orchestra. A few customers would sometimes approach him for a request and he would just quietly oblige. Nothing more, Nothing less. 

If Michel was to decide, he would adopt Erik just as much as he had adopted Mathis in his family. Truthfully, the mask bothered him the first time they had met but Michel had seen much atrocities during the past wars and he knew that it was not easy for men like Erik to conceal their suffering. He always had respect for servicemen like him.

"Good Evening, Monsieur Michel. The orchestra are here." Michel heard Erik's velvety voice in the middle of the little stage. He smiled widely when he saw them.

"Ah! There you are, Monsieur Erik! Yes, you may play now. The customers will be here!" He replied as he had opened the entrance doors of his restaurant. The usual day goes by, men, women and children would dine inside and chat endlessly until they tire. His waiters would walk and turn around the room and his orchestra would play music for their entertainment. He sat near the entrance and listened to Monsieur Mathis' new gossips. He stared willingly to Erik's way. He would feel himself chuckle whenever he saw Erik playing passionately, eyes closed, faint humming and graceful long fingers. He was really good at his new job.

"Monsieur Maxime said something about a high society lad lurking around town. He had a serious face with him." Michel averted his gaze to his guard.

"Maxime? That cunning fool? You think the boy's one of the kingsguard men?" He asked, pinching the tip of his cane.

"He guessed so. You know those guys, always had a bad eye with them."

"Nah, Maxime was always known to be a wrong source of gossip. I pity his wife." Michel reached for a smoke from his breast pocket.

"Never mind that old man and his mood. I hope that he won't visit us tonight."

The business went by as always and usually, Erik would change into his night clothes once again and bid his farewell to his other three male orchestra. He would also tap Mathis and Michel's shoulders and say good night. His shift would finish at exactly midnight and the restaurant would close, as well. When he had finally entered his cabin, he immediately walked to his writing desk and grabbed the newly bought parchment from his drawer. 

He had been thinking of what to say to her while he was playing the piano a while ago. He wanted it to be simple and honest. And if he could, he wanted it right. He dipped his quill pen to the ink and started writing.

* * *

**MARCH 12 1882 PARIS, FRANCE**

Christine cried at the sight of Erik's peculiar handwriting and message. How she missed him! Everything's been so busy ever since her marriage with Raoul. Busy at luncheons and business talks in the morning and busy with her husband on their bed in the evening. It was quite tiring for her but she had to learn of her new life now. She was not just simply, Christine Daae anymore, which Erik would still insist. She was now a Vicomtess. A Madame De Chagny. While she had not much made progress on socializing with new wealthy women like her, Erik had already surpassed her expectations. He had made new friends from his town and he was progressing through his work. A pianist? Christine could hardly believe it. If she were there, she would have made quite an applause for him. 

She also smiled at the thought that there was now someone who had known he exist. His neighbors had made sure of that and she could only feel but pride in her heart. For all she knew, he was now closer to his own dreams. She chuckled at his post script. Oh, what a hard headed man still! He loved his lemons more than her. She had also felt the love within each of his words and how he was still willing to guide her through his words. If only letters could talk, she would have fell in love with his voice again and again.

She had already read both of Erik and Meg's letters and kept them inside her locked diary. While she hid her diary in her drawer, Raoul knocked on her door softly. Christine fixed herself and opened the door for him but before she could speak, he surprised her with a passionate kiss. She smiled within her lips and encircled her arms around his neck. Her sweet, precious Raoul, always here to lighten her boring day. "Good Morning, my lovely Christine. Ready to go?"

Christine remembered that she actually wore a new, sparkling gown to attend a luncheon with a certain St. Croix Family. She was glad that she did not have to borrow dresses from Henrietta. Raoul did the honor of buying her a new closet. She smiled and kissed him soothingly. "Yes, my dearest Raoul. I'm good." 

Raoul lifted his arm for Christine to cling onto. He smiled at their sight. Husband and Wife. She always looked more beautiful with him. They slowly went downstairs to meet the new guests and the rest of the De Chagnys. Christine graced the dining hall with her pearl white dress and the ivory skin of her bare shoulders. The guests looked as though they were blessed with a real angel. Raoul chuckled at their faces. Henrietta and her older sister only rolled their eyes in dismay. Philippe De Chagny bowed stiffly and helped his father stand from his seat. 

Christine smiled at all of them while she glanced at her father in law. The older Comte De Chagny was failing bit by bit. According to Raoul, his heart was becoming too weak and to their despair, he only had a few months left before he would finally entitle Philippe as the head of the family. Philippe, being a bachelor, was still as strong and graceful as she had first seen him. She often wondered why Philippe chose to be alone rather than marry first before his little brother. Raoul only shrugged the question away. He did not know much what was running in his older brother's mind. 

Philippe was also a ladies man, as the employees of their residence would say. They would gossip sometimes about the nights they had heard the Comte's room filled with moans and gasps and also the dinner times when Philippe's arm were clung on by different women. Christine did not mind his 'mature' attitude as long as he would stay away from her.

They all sat quietly and Monsieur St. Croix started the conversation. As usual, Christine was not much interested in their own business. Raoul would sometimes enter the conversation and then suddenly he would talk only to Christine. But in Christine's surprise, the Madame St. Croix called her name and smiled at her. "Madame De Chagny is beyond what I had expected. She looked much pretty upclose."

"Well, given her past occupation, no one had actually seen her this close." Monsieur St. Croix laughed at his own joke. Christine only smiled faintly. 

"Thank you, Madame. Me and my husband greatly appreciate your visit here. It was an honor to meet such new people." Christine held on Raoul's hand and he squeezed it back in assurance.

"Oh yes! We actually wanted to invite you both to our gala next week. If it will not trouble you, Madame, we would also like to invite you to sing for us. Just one song or more, if you wish it to be so." Monsieur St. Croix said. Christine widened her eyes in anticipation. How she wanted to sing so bad! She wanted her voice to release once again. She lifted her gaze to Raoul and asked his permission with her green eyes. 

Of course, Raoul would not reject such offer if it would satisfy his wife. He knew how much she wanted to sing for so long, and if anything, he would allow her just once for that event. He nodded and smiled in acceptance. Christine almost felt like leaping and embracing Raoul tightly but she had to remain graceful on her seat. "Of course, Monsieur and Madame. I would love to."

"Splendid! I'm sure lots of our guests would cry in joy with just a pinch of your majestic voice!" Madame St. Croix remarked in joy. As the topic passed by, they diverted their conversation to elsewhere. Christine only felt butterflies in her stomach. She could finally sing! Oh, Erik! If only you were here.

Christine heard a faint sneer from Philippe as he stared at her cunningly. She shifted her seat away to block her sight from his. It was as if he was planning something but she only shrugged it away, trying not to spoil her afternoon.

Raoul smiled at her and gently kissed her lips in front of the dining table. Christine chuckled, content with the love Raoul gave to her just now.

When the night approached, Christine roamed around the house alone and went inside their large, music room. Usually, this was a place for practicing some dance steps for the men and women. But now, Raoul's newly bought pianoforte stood in the middle of the space. It was not actually a reason or a gift for Christine to have. Raoul was captivated with it and he made sure he wanted it placed in their home. She touched the ivory keys with her delicate fingers and imagined her angel of music's fingers touching them instead. Erik would have loved the majesty of the piano and played with it all night long. 

Christine slowly sat on the cushion bench and pushed a few keys randomly. She did not have the knowledge of playing the piano nor she was not taught much. But the sound of each key lifted her soul. Unknowingly, she pushed a few keys that resembled the tone she was now humming. _Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination._

It was as though she knew the right notes for his song. The song that once combined them in one under the night. Smoke and fog, once enveloped their beings. _Silently the senses, abandoned their defenses._ She suddenly thought of his pale hand softly touching her cold cheek. _Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light._

 _ **"And listen to the music of the night."**_ Christine sang faintly under her breath. Her fingers began to push new notes faster than she had ever done. _Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the world you knew before._

 _Let your soul take you where you long to be..._ Her head slowly lifted up as she heard the final note being pushed. She furrowed her brows in longing and she stared at the finger pushing the last note. When she felt the weight of the key, she let go of it and closed the lid. She almost felt her eyes warm. 

This was not supposed to happen. She could not forget about him but she had to. She had to let him go and tell him that he would be fine by himself for now. The reason why she wanted to write to him every month was to assure herself that he would be fine, without her. That he would live and prosper and would forget her. She thought it would be alright if he ever met someone much more better than her. 

She was lying. No. _I don't want him to meet someone. I want it to be just me._ But she was so greedy of him. She wanted him happy and here she was, wanted him to love just her while she was sitting here, hurting him every day with every kiss she delivered to Raoul. Not that she felt guilty loving Raoul but asking him to do such an act of normalcy would kill her. She wanted him to see just her. Her green with his brown ones. Oh, His soft, brown eyes combined with amber shades. She wanted to look at those orbs again. Maybe not now, but soon. If fate would allow it.

Christine stood from the bench and went straight to their room to finally rest. 

"It's so beautiful." Christine muttered near his neck. It had been so long ever since she last dreamt of the man beside her, his arm dangled behind her as they both sat on the swing in between the oak trees. To her surprise, the trees had finally went side by side, with only a few steps separating them. That was why the man with brown eyes tied a makeshift swing with the blue rope tying them together. 

"I know you'd like it. I missed you, dearly." he said as he patted her head teasingly. She giggled in delight as she stared at his eyes. Both of them were so whole and a slight splutter of amber shone within them. It was _his eyes. His soft, sad eyes._

"Come closer and make me warm, please." She asked of him and she thought she saw a curve from his thick lips. He enveloped her tired being with his strong arms and took hold of her curls. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he slowly caressed her hair with care. She only sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. "Tired but fine. I hated being tired."

"Then rest and let me sing for you." he replied as he kissed her forehead softly. She closed her eyes and savored the rising of his voice from his mouth. 

_**"She was such a flower. Floating along the wind. She was such a soft feather. Flying along the skies."**_ he sang as he pulled the weight of the swing with his feet backward and let go of the ground freely. The mat began to swing along the warm breeze.

_**"I felt a strange connection as she looked at me with her strong eyes. But deep inside, she was still a child."** _

_**"She was full of light and warmth, she was the sun and I was the moon."**_ she felt him shift carefully beside her and held on to her hand tightly.

 _ **"I was the night and she was the day. I sang night and she sang morning. She had came to my sleep and woke me up alive."**_ she listened intently on his every verse. He smiled unconsciously.

_**"I love her, but everyday I am seeing her leave. I love her, but the light is fading."** _

Christine reached for the collar of his shirt and grabbed on to it for dear life. She relished his scent of freedom and innocence. He only chuckled and hummed for a little while before he sang again.

_**"I love her, and I hope she loves me too. Thinks of me and cares for me. Sings a song for me and sweet sounds of the violin emerging within our voices."** _

_**"Oh, help me. Save me. Love me..."** _

"Sleep well, my angel. Don't ever forget me." He laid her gently on the swing as he slowly separate himself from her side and kissed her forehead. She whimpered when his warmth left her body. She suddenly trembled coldly. 

The rest of her slumber, left her empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you can read the letters properly. If it's quite blurry, please tell me through the comments. 
> 
> Btw, I just watched Lindsay Ellis' video about ALW Phantom of the Opera and she was accurately right about Ramin Karimloo's Phantom. Lots of feelings, indeed. I just wanna cry.
> 
> Thanks for reading this 'filler' chapter! I've been spending my whole day rendering the Phantom's Lair and SketchUp is just so slow. If you want to check the final renders of my work, you can visit my Instagram: instagram.com/peytpulley. I also had awesome Phantom fan arts so check it out.


	13. A Moment of Defense

**A Moment of Defense**

**╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗**

**╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝**

"Happy Birthday, Marius. I brought you something." Erik said as he opened the door, entering their house. Marius leapt from his seat and hopped happily in front of Erik. He chuckled at the lovely sight. He put the plushy toy towards the boy and patted his head. Marius led out a silent gasp and hand signed his thanks to their new friend.

Erik almost laughed at the irony. Most children would not approach him because of the intimidation coming from his mask. In fact, most people would not attempt. The mask was the main reason he was shunned by society. But this child, who was now embracing his waist was different from them. There was no denial that the three of them were fitting to be with each other. Their marks which separates them from the rest of the world, drew them to be their own people. Their instincts were stronger for survival and they would prefer sticking together, whenever one's in need. 

But he was thankful that the people of Provins differ from the people in Paris. They were french, indeed, but carefree and content. They would make use of their time talking, walking and trading until the sun would come down. This was very much enough for Erik. Enough for a man wanted by monsters. His thoughts were interrupted when Charles emerged from the poultry fence. "Ah, there you are! Seems like our dear Erik gave you your birthday gift." Charles chuckled and pinched both of his son's pink cheeks.

"I'm glad he likes it. I made it myself." Erik replied as he sat on the couch. 

"The kid was so easily satisfied with gifts. Once, Michel gave him a jack-in-the-box and he almost broke it by playing the toy too much." Charles laughed at the sudden memory and sat along beside Erik. He patted the masked man's back and asked him about his last night.

"The usual. Play and talk. Talk and eat steak and soup. I liked it." Erik replied with a faint smile.

"I'm glad you do. It's not much, though but It's enough to start, isn't it?" 

"Yes. It's enough. I would not ask for more. I prefer this simple life." Erik nodded and held on Charles' knee to assure his presence. "What about you? How's life without me yesterday?"

"I know you will laugh at me if I said we were both bored without a masked man to tease. But do not worry, we're pretty much alright." Charles replied as he reached for Erik's forearm. Both of them sat in silence until the blind man flinched. "Oh! By the way, would you mind if we invite you to walk with us to church on a Sunday?"

Erik removed his hand from his knee and thought about his invitation. He realized that he was now a frequent visitor of the town's place of worship. But only for confessions and his devotion for its architecture. He did not talk much to anyone in that place except the priest from the other side of the wall. They had not seen each other once, only heard the voices. If anything, there was no absolute fear of attending in the church with a few friends with him. "I don't mind. Of course, I would love to walk you both there."

"Excellent! And if it will not trouble you, I would very much need your help with shopping. Marius would often complain of the burden of carrying bags with two short arms."

Erik smiled and nodded. "Yes, I will."

"Oh yes, how's Michel treating you? He delivered some spare toppings for me to prepare some food for Marius yesterday." Charles stood and poured two glasses of water for them. Erik made an approving sound from his lips.

"He is very courteous with all of us. He treats us the same as any other rich men dining in his restaurant. He seems to be well respected by the town." Erik replied.

"That's right! Michel has been living here for almost 40 years since his childhood. He did once sought jobs from Paris and America but he loved Provins so much he went back to build his culinary empire."

"We've met each other when we first resided here fifteen years ago from Dijon. He was a good, funny man with his funny mustache." Charles gave the glass to Erik and both of them drank straightly.

Spring had finally came in France and both of them relished the warm breeze of the wind passing by at their garden. They both watched Marius play with his new doll under the shade. Erik imagined the sound of wind with Christine's voice, soft and sweet.

"I'm sorry I've been staying here for too long rather than inside my solitude." Erik muttered with slight regret which made Charles gasp in dismay.

"Oh dear you. Don't apologize for such a thing. It's alright if you want to stay here and I actually prefer your company here more than anyone else. I would hate to hear Marius whimper again whenever you forgot to visit us in the afternoon." Charles slapped his shoulder teasingly and Erik only chuckled in defeat. 

"Thank you. I had learned so much from you both. You taught me how to atleast survive with a few people flocking around me."

"Provins people prefer sticking with each other. Like a huge human barricade. If anything comes wrong, they would be prepared to defend each other."

"Is that so?"

"I know so." Charles patted his shoulder one last time before he went back inside the house. Erik thought of the older man's perception of his town. He might have a chance in this place, indeed. He just hoped it would not live short before he could finally say enough.

"Oh, God. Maxime just came out from the brothel tonight." Michel grumbled under his breath while he temporarily sat on the piano bench while Erik was busy cleaning the pianoforte. The rest of the employees grumbled along with him in sincere frustration. The only person who was out of place was Erik. He stared at Michel in question and the tall man only chuckled.

"Monsieur Maxime is the resident villain in this town. He's been living here for eight years and would only show up here on a Thursday and Friday. He spreads wrong gossip like wildfire and would bully one of my boys here." Michel replied to Erik, who only nodded in reply.

"He's a drunken fool, ya know! Never liked his guts." Mathis remarked with a sneer while he helped the younger boys arrange the tables.

"Avoid him, Erik. If he shouts anything at you, don't mind him." Michel stood from the bench and tapped Erik's shoulder closely. Erik said his thanks with a smile. He wiped the dust from his hands and began to sit on his bench to play.

The evening started once again with a huge crowd of customers dining in and chatting about a lot of things. As always, Erik would silence himself within his own music and Monsieur Michel would spend his evening chatting with some customers or with his guard at the front door. Some people would tap his shoulder and request for a song for their loved ones or maybe, a birthday song. He suddenly regretted not singing a song for Marius awhile ago. He would have to do that tomorrow instead.

When Erik finished a few tunes from his pianoforte, he achingly stood from his bench and decided to rest for a little while. Instead of hiding in the locker room as usual, he comfortably pulled a chair from the vacant table at the corner and sat beside his employer. When Monsieur Michel saw him approaching, he smiled widely and swayed his hand to welcome him, "Come, Erik! Let us savor the fresh night air."

Erik wanted to know what was usually going on in town without having to be too much comfortable with the people. The gossip would sometimes pass by near his ears and he would shrug it away but he was afraid he might feel unwelcome time by time if he ever not try to be satisfied sitting just once. "Thank you. I think my fingers need some resting."

"Sure they do! Here, have some beer with me!" Michel gave him a glass of sweet beer and Erik crossed his legs comfortably.

"Tell us, Erik. How was your life before Provins?" Mathis asked with a foam of beer on his chin. Erik eventually knew that questions would be asked sooner or later. That was why he spent most of his free time thinking of answers and possibilities. His lie about being a serviceman was a bit hard to come by. 

"As you know, I've served France for almost ten years until I had to go home with a burn mark on my face. It was from an illegal gunpowder trading. I was assigned to check some of the confiscated products until one barrel blasted out to our faces. I was one of the lucky ones to survive although it gave me a bit of a hard time living after a few days." Erik faked a solemn face and observed the looks from his companions. Their faces filled with pity and sympathy. Values that usually would not come from the faces of his tormentors. Instead of screams and gasps, it was pity. And he hated pity, most of all!

"Good Lord, Erik. I'm sorry for making you tell us that. It must have been hard for you." Michel apologized as he removed his bowler hat from his sleek grey hair.

"It's alright, Monsieur. I've been asked about it a lot of times. Although after that, I had spent being an assistant for my uncle's inn near the Seine. But Paris was too much of a city for a simpleton like me. I traveled into different towns until I reached Provins and decided to stay." Erik slightly gasped in his own blathering. He never felt this talky before and he was quite relieved he did not have to stop. He found great company with the older Monsieurs.

"Good thing you came here! You are a blessing from the heavens! If it weren't for you, I would not have a musician with me for a long time." 

"I'm honored, Monsieur." Erik replied while sipping from his glass.

"The Bollignys will have a ball next week, did you hear? My wife invited me to come too!" Mathis said loudly, smoking a round from his mouth.

"Oh really? Well, I think we should get ready for it then! Erik, The Bollignys own a huge inn near the city hall. They would surely invite us to play music for them." Michel tapped his shoulder with invitation. 

"I'll do my best, Monsieur." Erik replied.

"Splendid! It will be fun. You'll get to meet new people there. I would have to invite the Leroys too. You know how that little lad enjoys the company with other children his age." Erik smiled at the mere thought of the two of them dancing on the ball room. 

"I shall do that for you, Monsieur Michel. The Leroys have been with my company for weeks now." Erik replied in sincerity. Michel laughed in joy and put a hand on his strong shoulder. He slightly shuddered from the strange touch. But the older man immediately let go when his gaze averted at the different side. 

"Elena! Welcome back!" He and Mathis shouted at the approaching figure from the road. The woman named Elena waved her hand with anticipation. Erik observed her appearance and he would not deny that she was, indeed, beautiful than any other women in this town. She had a wavy jet black hair dangling on her olive bare shoulders. Her skin shone under the moonlight and her dark brown eyes sparkled in delight. She wore a loose white gown with fabric roses surrounding her bust. She looked like she came from a foreign land with her dark complexion. 

The woman bowed on the two of them and Michel kindly kissed the top of her hand. When her eyes stared at Erik's soft, lighter ones, she smiled in question. "Now, who is this fine looking gentleman? It's the first time I saw him."

Erik awkwardly stood from his seat and softly reached for her hand to kiss, "Good Evening, Mademoiselle. My name's Erik Daae." He kissed her knuckles and the lady gasped in surprise.

"Oh, dear! Is it just me or is it your voice I just heard?" She asked as her hand reached for her heaving chest.

"I'm afraid it was just my simple voice. Forgive me, your name is-"

"Elena Van Harriette, Monsieur Erik. Goodness! Your voice is not simple. It was, as I would put it, godly." She smiled to him with closeness. Erik felt like melting from her sweet stares.

"I know, right? I told you his voice was anything I had never heard before. He's our new pianist here." Michel laughed within his words as he reached for Erik's shoulder. Elena giggled along with them.

"I'm here for the usual, Monsieur! You know the menu." She remarked as she pulled a seat near the counter in front of Erik. Michel clapped his hand and stood from his chair. "Gladly! I shall get your favorite for you. Please wait here." The older man left hurriedly to the kitchen with Tom. 

Erik felt like reaching back for the ivory keys of his piano when he noticed her focused eyes to him. "It's nice meeting you, Monsieur Erik. It's not always we see a handsome man with a mask on his face, no offense." She smiled sincerely which almost captivated Erik's heart. He chuckled in embarrassment.

"None taken, Miss Van Harriette. I'm simply a mere lad seeking peace in a new town." Erik replied with a returning smile.

"Please, call me Elena. As for you, I'll call you Erik. I understand your reason. I heard from the other neighbors that there was a serviceman who currently resides in the isolated cabin across the road. I assume it is you?"

"Yes, I managed to find the place comfortable enough for a man like me. I've been working here for the past few days."

"I see. I think we would be seeing each other more often. I've been a guest here regularly although I missed the past week, unfortunately. I prefer taking out Michel's cuisine than any other kind. The coffee and steak are so good!" She put her hands under her chin while her elbows lay on her crossed knees. Erik suddenly grew fond of the new lady companion. She was, fortunately, charming and sweet. People here were unexpectedly and strangely kind he almost felt like hiding inside his locker. 

"Indeed it is." Erik spoke and remained silent for a few moments. He tried to avert his attention to other things but he still noticed her stares behind his back. He stood and decided to play the piano forte again. The other members of the orchestra stood beside him and began to play their respected instruments. Erik had forgotten the lady he left at the door. Her intense staring bothered him up to his core. Her dark eyes almost trying to pull him into the void. She had the most beautiful smile, a curving of lips, which almost could compete with Christine's. He shook the thought away. There was no one as exquisite as Christine in his eyes. People like her would still look at him the same way once the mask was off. Except Christine. His dearest Christine.

"Hey, Mathis! Get off my back, will ya?! Let me through!" A gruff voice boomed from the entrance door which made Erik jolt from his silent trance. A man with a grumpy face and a fat belly stood beside Mathis' strong figure. It looked like they were arguing.

"You're drunk, mate! Go now and sober yourself up." Mathis replied with a huff. Erik stopped playing and furrowed his brows in frustration. He hated this kind of noise. The hoarse, cruel tone of a man's voice infuriated him. He suddenly had the urge to walk near the scene. Monsieur Maxime, he heard, kept on pushing Mathis away from his post. 

"I'm a citizen of France, damn it! I deserve some civility. Let me through and let me talk to Michel." He stopped pulling Mathis' collar and pushed him away. In the corner of Erik's eye, Elena stood from her seat and strongly pushed the stranger away from the door.

"Get out, Maxime! You're scaring Michel's customers!" Elena shouted at him angrily. He looked upon her eyes and saw the resentment within. Maxime dirtily smirked at her sight. He tightly grabbed her arm and smelled her hair viciously.

"You dirty whore! Here to crave some company, huh? Already forgotten the gift I gave you last week, sweet?" Maxime led out a disgusting remark which made Elena shudder in fear.

"Get off me, you stinky old man! Let go!" She tried to pull away from him but she only saw his hand flying towards her. Only it did not touch her face.

"Hurting a polite, young lady with your dirty hand, are you? You got some gall." The dangerous tone of Erik's voice made the whole audience watching the occurrence shiver in slight terror. Elena could not stop gasping for air. His voice sounded beautiful just a while ago and now the tone crawled under her skin. Maxime widened his eyes, staring at Erik's flesh mask and dark, amber eyes. The old man's wrist was caught by Erik's strong, pale hand, trying to prevent it from hurting the lady behind him. 

Maxime removed his wrist from him immediately and took a step backward from Erik. "Who is this monstrosity?! How dare you touch me with your... disgusting hand?!" He shouted spitefully. Erik only tongue clicked in annoyance and gently moved Elena behind him. He felt her shivering in fear when she reached for his shoulder to cling on.

"You are disturbing the peace of the people dining inside this establishment. You better be going or we will call the authorities." Erik said with defiance. Mathis felt himself smiling at Erik. He never thought the man was this fearless than he could comprehend. Maybe the perks of a soldier. 

"Hmph! Are you trying to shun me?! Don't forget that I'm one of the wealthiest men in this godforsaken town and the lady you are protecting is a whore!" Erik felt Elena sob loudly behind him and he moved his free hand to caress hers with protection.

"I don't care who you are, Monsieur. Rich or not, you spit the same dirt you lick under our feet. This town is protecting you and your sickening attitude and here you are, throwing away their gratitude. Go or I'll do what I must do to make sure this establishment will continue on without your loud mouth." Silence emerged from their ears as Erik and his company waited for a few moments for the intruder's response. 

"Don't forget this night, Monsieur. I won't ever forget the demon in your face. And you, Elena..." He stared at Elena's trembling figure behind Erik.

"You better prepare for my punishment soon." He laughed cunningly before he ran away to the other side of the road. All of them led out a relieving sigh and Erik finally had let go of her warm hand. He had let too many people touch him already in just a night. He slowly turned back towards his instrument when Elena's hand reached for his shoulder. He suddenly felt the weight of their hands on him and faintly grumbled.

"Monsieur. I want to thank you for saving me." She whispered at him with her eyes wet with tears. He felt the urge to wipe them away but he stopped his trembling fingers from touching anyone. He only nodded nervously but he felt her thin arms around his waist and her wet cheek against his chest. His hands trembled furiously on his side from her unexpected touch. The lady continued to whisper her gratitude until Erik had to pull her gently from him and inhale more air. He almost thought he would faint.

"It's nothing. Once Monsieur Michel comes out with your dinner, you must better be going home and rest yourself. You had encountered a rather, bad night." Erik pulled his waistcoat properly and sat on the piano bench to play but he stopped momentarily when Elena spoke to him for the last time, "He's not gonna stop until I beg for his mercy next week, then." She sighed in defeat and left his side. Erik watched her being approached by Monsieur Michel at the door and being comforted with a fatherly embrace. She cried for a moment in the old man's arms and left with her dinner for the night.

"Poor young lassie. Why should she have to suffer under his hands, instead?" Erik turned his gaze to the violinist with a questioning stare. The violinist named Julien stared pitifully at the entrance door. The young man stared back at him and understood his eyes. "She was one of Madame De Mourant's women. The brothel near the tea shop was their home." The boy replied sincerely. Erik widened his eyes at the revelation.

Elena was a prostitute, that explained her exotic and brave front. She was a careless, beautiful lady with vicious men standing behind her back, ready to make her their only prey. Her beauty was her only means to survive in this world. Her own mask, hiding what was really inside her heart and her eyes. Erik knew enough what these girls suffer every night under the sheets. He could almost hear every moan and cry they were faking. His life in Paris was enough to show him these monstrosities. He almost wanted to punch himself for thinking such horrible thoughts in front of her. He was a man, indeed and he was bad at it. He suddenly heard the booming sound of the bell from the church. It was his calling.

"Finally, I should have known this would happen, eventually. I should have not left her outside the door." Michel palmed his face in frustration as he sat beside Erik on the stage floor. Erik stopped his playing and looked at his employer. 

"I believe it is me who should apologize. I unwillingly left her side a while ago and before I could look back for her, I already saw Monsieur Maxime at the door." Erik apologized kindly. It was true. He left a kind lady unprotected near the entrance and all he wanted to do was to self loath. 

"It's alright, Erik. At least you were there to protect her from him for now. Whatever that man would do to her soon, I shall never forgive him. Elena was like a daughter to me. She was barely an adolescent when she came into my doorstep begging for food. Since then I provided the daily fill for her stomach after her shift." Before Erik could reply, Mathis called Michel near the counter and left the stage. His heart warmed for the young lady. She was as kind as Christine. She reminded him of her. He sighed when he realized he was one of those men, taking advantage of their beauty. He was no different. He felt angry and with the ting of the midnight clock, he abruptly left the seat of his bench and ran straight towards his locker to change.

He hurriedly bid his farewell to the older Monsieurs and ran towards the road to the church. 

His legs sprinted across the aisle towards the confession room. As he entered with an exasperated mood, the priest on the other side flinched from his seat. "My dear, what is wrong?" Erik exhaled a large amount of air before he spoke, "Apologies, father. A bad night."

The old priest smiled when he recognized the same voice he had began to love for the past few days. The man, whom he called Young Gabriel, sat properly on his seat and leaned his head on the frame. "Forgive me, father. For I have sinned."

"Yes, my son?" he asked with a soothing tone. Erik sighed in relief as he began to speak.

_Christine, I met a lady a while ago. She was as beautiful as you are. No, you are much more beautiful in my eyes. She was kind and sincere just like you. When she met me, she smiled and she told me she loved meeting me. She stared at me as though she wanted to know the man behind the mask. I was so afraid, my love. Then a man came into the restaurant and tried to hurt her. It pained me when he almost slapped her on the face and I was fast enough to stop him. I could not take it whenever I thought about you suffering by anyone's hand, including me. It would kill me, Christine. I hope you could forgive me and my weak thoughts. These perverse thoughts that I had to endure all because I was born a man. I hated looking like this and I hated thinking like this. Help me open my eyes, Christine. Save my distorted soul._

"Thank you for listening to me, father." After Erik had finished his confession, he apologized again for the sudden intrusion and the priest nodded slowly. 

"My pleasure, young Gabriel. I am glad you are aware of your own thoughts. You might not see it yet but you are a great man."

"Why do you say that?" Erik asked with uncertainty. 

"Erik, isn't it? In Christian, it means "honorable ruler". I think a day would come when you will have to change the world to its best. Maybe not now. But soon, you'll see." After the priest replied and went out from his side, Erik gasped gratefully. There was no man who would dare to tell him these acknowledging words. A priest, least of all! His words felt like a warm blanket, enveloping him with affection. 

He remembered the priest in his childhood. A mere man named Erik Mansart, whom he was named after, taught him how to play the organ and sing. The same, horrible man who told him once that animals like Sasha had no souls. He hated him when he had used the immorality of exorcism through him. He was an angry child and he had accidentally sold him to the devil. He was the main reason he left the grace of God. He hated him with all his heart. But just like the man on the other side of the room, he must have been a kind man. But he never did, for a human being such as himself. 

Erik laughed at his own realization. He just recently sought forgiveness from a priest and from God and here he was, resenting them both once again. Not that he meant offense to the Provins man. He left the confession room with a sigh and walked back towards the road through the woods.

While he was passing by the dark alley near the church, Erik abruptly stopped walking when he heard a faint mewl behind him. He tried to squint his eyes through the dark to look for the sound and he flinched when he had heard it again, a little louder. He walked near the dirty crates at the corner and began to pull them away from his sight.

That was when he saw the little, dirty creature inside a small box. "Oh, dear. It's alright, little one." He slowly reached for the little bundle of fur but it hissed out of fear. He tried to pull away his hands a little until the abandoned kitten stood itself comfortably with his touch. Erik patted its little head and soothed it with his faint voice. "It's alright. You're safe." He slowly encircled his hands around its thin figure and carried him against his chest. He whispered safety near its ear as it fell asleep. He covered the little animal with his black cloak and continued walking home.

When he felt the kitten wake up from its slumber on his arms, he spoke sweetly. "What should I name you, hm?"

The cat only mewled in response. When Erik lit a fire from his fireplace, he took a better look at his new pet. His heart felt saddened for his state. The kitten was blind with one eye and its fur was so sparse he could almost see the pale skin underneath. It was so thin as though it had not been eating for weeks now. "I had a cat once, I named her Ayesha. What about you?"

Erik stared at its blind, grey eye once again and he had a terrible, funny idea to name for it. "Well, hello then. Admiral Horatio Nelson. That's right. I would not _turn a blind eye."_ The cat mewled in satisfaction and purred under his touch. He chuckled with the thought of having another little companion by his side.

"Welcome to my... small company. Monsieur Horatio."

_I should have stopped by to shop for a potty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter came in and after this, I would rest for a few days before I write again. This is pretty much a filler once again. Just wanna warn you all for the sudden new characters appearing in my fic. You might want to remember some of them because I think they will eventually live long in the future chapters. The fic will consist of 100 chapters and I like to keep it that way so yeah, get ready for some new people coming in!
> 
> Thanks for reading this chapter and prepare yourselves for the future heartbreaking arcs coming in soon!


	14. Downfall and Redemption

**Downfall and Redemption**

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It was now the night's gala. Monsieur and Madame St. Croix splendidly did well organizing this event for the wealthy and royalty. Christine stared out from her carriage window and was bewildered how grandiose their residence was. Raoul could not help but laugh while looking at his wife. She looked so much like a Vicomtess with how she wore her beautiful gown but her face was the only thing that defined Christine Daae. Her green eyes showed innocence still. 

When the steward opened the carriage for them, Christine felt her fingers tremble in anxiety. When Raoul noticed her discomfort, he gently held her hand and squeezed it. He looked at her with an assuring smile on his face. "It's alright, you can do this. It will be just like any other opera." He kissed her forehead and led her towards the ballroom door. 

Dancing figures and stunning dresses spread around the big space of the mansion. Before the De Chagnys could even breathe for a moment, they were immediately approached by a few friends that Christine was having difficulty to remember by. Her gaze averted to the orchestra playing in front of the crowd. A little later, she would be the one standing there. Raoul's not right. This was not just an opera. She hoped she could find a man with a porcelain mask somewhere.

Raoul shook hands with a few guests that were well acquainted with their family. Some of them also would approach him to form a friendship. He could only exhale a sigh. When he had noticed the blond hair from the left side of the room, Raoul led Christine to approach Philippe sitting with their sisters at their table. 

"There you are, little brother! Bored already?" Philippe said with a taunt smile on his face. She noticed the woman clinging on his arm, she gasped in surprise. The Comte's companion was La Sorelli, one of the ballet girls from the Opera Populaire. When the girl seemed to recognize Christine too, she smiled widely and approached her. "Christine! It's so good to see you again!"

"Likewise, Sorelli! It's been a while." They both kissed each other's cheeks. Christine held Raoul's forearm and introduced him to the other lady. "Raoul, This is La Sorelli. Our principal dancer from the opera house. Sorelli, this is my husband, Raoul."

"Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle." He kissed Sorelli's knuckles which made the girl giggle in delight.

"Dear Philippe. I did not know your brother was as gorgeous as you are. A charming Vicomte, indeed." She sat once again beside the older De Chagny and squeezed his arm.

"A perk of being a De Chagny. Appearance and status were the most important aspects of our legacy." The man replied, with his eyes upon Christine. She flinched at his stare.

"And arrogantly good, if I may add. Good thing, I'm not a De Chagny." remarked La Sorelli, which made Henrietta beside them roll her eyes.

Christine sat beside Raoul at their dining table and when supper was served on them, they immediately ate and casually chatted about a few things. Philippe De Chagny spent most of his time chatting with La Sorelli about their adventures in the Opera House. Henrietta would often pull away Raoul's attention from Christine and she could only sigh in frustration. Most of her time was done with spinning the pasta around her fork and Raoul could tell that she was becoming bored if his sister kept insisting for some gossip. He finished her gossip immediately by telling her his wife needed his immediate attention. Henrietta crossed her arms huffingly.

"I'm sorry about that, my love. My sisters just loved me too much." said Raoul and kissed Christine's knuckles. She only smiled and continued to fiddle her food. The music from the stage switched into something country and Raoul pulled Christine to the middle of the room to dance. They danced and hopped endlessly with their arms entangled on their shoulders and waists. Raoul savored the happiness his wife released with every step. He knew how Christine loved to dance, as she was once a ballet girl before prima donna.

"Ow! Raoul, my foot!" He snapped out of his trance when she flinched and missed a step. He chuckled in embarrassment when he accidentally stepped her foot. 

"Oh Lord! I'm so sorry, Christine! I was just thinking of how beautiful you are tonight." He said with a flirty glance. Christine tongue clicked in delight.

"You flatter me, Monsieur Le Vicomte."

"I would flatter you everyday even if you cringe." Raoul replied and slowly stopped moving around the room. He cupped her flushed cheeks and kissed her in front of the crowd. Neither of them did not care of the sweet commotion. All that mattered was her and Raoul, in their cloud of love. 

Their kiss was abruptly stopped when Madame St. Croix tapped Raoul's shoulder. "Aww, you too look so beautiful together! If you don't mind, Monsieur Le Vicomte, we would like to invite your wife for her song." The older lady smiled at Christine with sincerity. Maybe royalty was not so bad. Raoul said his thanks and happily escorted Christine to the front of the stage. 

She began to shiver nervously. This would be the first time she would be singing in a gala. She knew they were the same people who used to watch their shows every months but it was different if you are a royalty rather than an actress. Tonight, she would sing. And she would sing for him, once again. Even if he was not here. No, he was not here.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we would like use this time tonight to introduce to you the newest member of our community. She was known as the lead soprano of the Opera Populaire and tonight she will be blessing us with her wonderful voice. Christine Daae or better yet, Madame Christine De Chagny!" Monsieur St. Croix introduced to the crowd and all of them applauded when Christine slowly emerged to the small stage. She stared at the crowd, feeling as tense as never. She stole a glance behind her and she saw the comforting smile from Raoul. He nodded in assurance and she breathed a deep sigh.

She looked back and sang her first note, _**"I saw you in my dreams of beauty, I saw you from above the clouds of my imagination."**_

 _ **"You reached for my hand and promised me everlasting love. Everlasting grace. Everlasting song."**_ Her eyes scanned the whole area, hoping to see a man with a black feathered hat and a shiny cloak. _**"Days had passed and the sun was warm. Night was bright and the air was cold. We both danced beneath the trees, across my memory."**_

Christine closed her eyes and she saw herself in the same ballroom but alone in her own mind. Voices began to hum all around and she found herself stepping out from her own stage, _**"Figures singing, candles lit. Crossing the sea with our floating feet. You had danced and sang for me. Sang me a lullaby to sleep."**_

There, from the empty entrance, she saw the man she was looking for. His white mask intact on his face, his shiny cloak beaming along the lights, and his feathered black hat adding only to his massiveness. She gasped in delight. _**"You gave me a house to see, a world to wonder and savor. You showed me what my world truly means and I was nothing but entranced."**_

She held his hand and he led her into the middle of the room. He gently grabbed her waist while he guided her hand on his shoulder. She stared at his soft, brown eyes with wonder. _**"You asked me to trust you and touch you. I wanted to but you slowly pushed me away."**_ He started to move his feet along with her and danced around the space with grace. She did not know he was good at dancing. _**"I am a person who saw you behind your beauty and there lay a somber soul. All alone I sang to you and all you can give me was you."**_

 _ **"Our figures dancing and flying, all but one little flaw."**_ They both stopped dancing and she felt heavy. His figure slowly stepped backward from her and she lifted her arm to reach for him. The place darkened and shadows of men appeared outside the glass doors. _**"It was all just a passing dream..."**_

Christine watched the shadows clung on the Phantom's arms and she almost heard her soul scream in terror as his black figure were being succumbed back to the darkness. _**"It is all done and I am finally awake! You were here and I hope to see you when I sleep once again..."**_

_**"Figures dancing and souls entangled, all but only in my dreams... Dreams of a friendless child..."** _

As she reached for her final crescendo, she slowly opened her eyes and a loud applause welcomed her sight. Her eyes warmed to tears when she looked back to the sudden solemn face of her husband. They stared at each other for a few moments before Raoul reached for her hand and kissed it. He knew what she sang. He knew what she meant. Raoul was not going to hurt her for that. She needed this to pass by. She needed her love. Christine Daae was no longer a friendless little girl, but a strong, capable woman, powerful enough to entrance the world with her voice and beauty. "You did well, my love."

"Please stay with me, Raoul." She whispered as he guided her back down from the stage and walked towards their table. But before Christine could compose herself, she heard faint whispers from the corner of the hall. 

"Did you just heard her song? It's obvious it was not for my brother." She heard Henrietta whisper to her companions which made Christine flinch beside Raoul. "Really? What do you mean?" The other lady asked in curiosity.

"Well, my brother was not that of a mysterious man as you all thought. He's a simpleton and it did not describe him in her song."

"I'm sure she was talking about an another man." The older De Chagny sister talked back and Christine felt her tears flowing furiously. Raoul saw her eyes reddened. "Christine, are you all right?"

"I think... She has an affair with the infamous Phantom of the Opera." Henrietta mumbled which made the other ladies in court gasped. 

"How do you know? She is married with the Vicomte and it looked like they were truly in love." 

"Hmph. She must have been imagining the demon cursed on her bed instead of my brother's face." They all laughed in disgust as they all stared at Christine's wet eyes. Her ears began to hurt and other multiple voices began to talk loudly. She looked and looked at any other side of the room and shook with fear. Raoul began to panic at her reaction and he rubbed her shoulders. 

"Christine, please. Calm down. Do you want me to-"

"Get me out of here, please." Christine finally whispered hoarsely.

"Christine, I-"

"Please, Raoul! I beg you!" She yelled which made a few heads looked to their side. Christine tried her best to breath in more air and Raoul stood to block their views from his wife. 

"Come, I'll take us home." Raoul shortly said his farewells to his siblings and to the other guests before he wrapped his coat on her trembling shoulders. Monsieur St. Croix tried to insist Raoul to stay for a little while but Raoul only led out a hand and walked with Christine out. When they were about to reach the carriage, she stopped.

"I can go home alone, you may stay with them for a little while." Christine said as she opened the carriage door and climbed by herself.

"No, Christine. Please I can-"

"Raoul, your family need you there. I can handle myself. I shall wait for you at our room."

"But-"

"I'll see you later, my dear. I love you so much." She kissed his cheek before she gently closed the door and banged her fist for the carriage to move. Raoul was left outside, stunned. He did not know what made Christine lash like that. It was just like before, when he tried to invite her to supper, but she insisted on staying and him go. _Things have changed, Raoul._ He also sensed her discomfort after singing her aria. The song was obviously, beautifully thought and was not meant for him. Could it be she was still being haunted by the ghost of their past? Not in body, but in her soul? He shuddered at the thought and ran back to the ballroom.

Raoul went inside and saw his siblings all sitting on their table. Philippe was the first one to talk, "Where is your wife, Raoul? Was she that rude to run away from us that way?" Raoul immediately sneered at his brother as he sat on his seat in indignation. 

"I do not have time for all of your worthless comments and gossip. Can you have at least have one moment to spare my wife from your prejudice?" Raoul softly grumbled at his sisters. Henrietta crossed her arms huffingly.

"Why, oh why! It's not our fault she was easily threatened." She replied with a raised brow. Raoul only furrowed his brows which made Philippe smirked in pride. Time by time, he was seeing himself from his brother's stern eyes.

"Have you no decency to your family? She is now your sister as I am your brother! She is a kind woman and you're definitely not!" Raoul sneered at her youngest sister and Philippe's palm hit the top of their table. Raoul's gaze averted to his older brother with a shocked reaction. He suddenly felt like a little boy under his seniors' whim. Philippe smiled and tongue clicked harshly. 

"Have you no decency, Raoul? Henrietta is your sister as I am your brother. We are your blood and she's definitely not." Philippe mixed his former words and turned it back to him, with a snap. Raoul lowered his gaze from his brother and kept his silence. Henrietta and her older sister laughed at him and stood away from their table to chat with their friends. La Sorelli went back on Philippe's lap and they both went to their business, leaving Raoul stunned and furious.

He clasped his hands on his lap, tightly and his shoulders rose with strength. He hated being helpless. He hated being the least. He hated being worthless. He hated not being able to defend his wife from his family's judgement. He stood from the empty table and went to the bar.

"Anything strong you have." He requested from the waiter as he sat grumpily on the stool. The servant gave him a small glass of champagne and he straightly drank it with confidence. His throat ached with its bitterness. These would be the perks of becoming Vicomte. Well respected, confident and tall. Not a man like Raoul De Chagny. Romantic, angry and silent. He had enough of these hard times. The times when the mysterious Phantom underestimated his confidence of capturing him and his love for Christine. But at least, he had acknowledged him. He had set them free and entrusted her to his care. He knew a man like him could help Christine live happily. He knew Raoul loved her and would die for her, that was why he gave her away. _Go now and leave me!_ At least he was better to deal with than his siblings.

He palmed his face in frustration. If he were her angel of music, what would he do? _You gave me a house to see, a world to wonder and savor._ He gave her what she wanted, a life of beauty and music. Her love for music was so strong that even Raoul could not be able to strip it away. It was pure and it was the reason she and the Phantom had crossed paths. He loved her in his own way as Raoul did. He realized it was not just wealth and luxury that could make her happy. She was not that kind of woman. She was not free from the world's chains of expectations. If only he had much confidence to sing for her. But obviously, it was not his what she was craving for. 

But maybe, someday... He could set her free too. The same way the man under the night once did.

He kept his silence the whole trip back to their estate. His siblings did not insist his attention which relieved Raoul enough. When the carriage stopped, he quickly stepped away and ran to their own bedroom. He quietly opened the door to prevent himself disturbing his wife's slumber and shed his heavy clothing on the side table. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Christine's moist cheeks and wet eyelashes. He softly caressed her cheek and kissed her forehead. She was completely exhausted from the pressure of his community and it was obvious she wanted to rest for a little while. 

Raoul hurriedly bathed himself and wore a loose shirt and pants for the night. He slid under the sheets and encircled his arm around her thin waist. She groaned slightly and shifted her body towards him. She opened her eyes to find Raoul's apologetic face. "It's okay, it's not your fault." She assured him and kissed his lips.

"I put you in there and I was not able to stop them. I feel worthless." He tightened his hold on her and she only sighed against his chest. 

"No, please. Don't blame yourself, Raoul. You had done enough to protect me and I wanted to thank you for a thousand ways." She whispered and caressed his cheek. He smiled at her lovingly.

"What will I do without you?"

"Well, I would still be the girl who once owned a scarf that you saved. I would say, nothing really." They both chuckled and Christine embraced Raoul and snuggled her face on his bare chest. Raoul whispered a prayer to God as thanks for her existence.

"You're right. My life's totally nothing without you. I love you."

"I love you too, Monsieur Le Vicomte." She replied before she completely closed her eyes again to sleep. 

Somehow, the title made him slightly huff. 

* * *

"Have you all little brats saw my pocket watch?!" Monsieur Michel frustratingly ran around his restaurant looking for his silver watch under the tables. Erik and Mathis only stood in front of the slightly opened door, laughing at the sight. Their old employer was under the long table, crawling like a babe. "Monsieur, I-" Erik spoke.

"Those bloody kids on the street kept on reaching for my pockets like I was a tree. Can someone help me find the little thing?"

"Monsieur, your watch was in your left hand." Erik said rather quick and he loudly laughed along with Mathis. He never felt this happy since his times with the Daroga in Persia. The old man lifted his hand and saw the watch, indeed, on his palm. 

"Good Lord, Am I getting that senile?" Michel asked, scratching his head.

"Not really. These things do happen." Erik replied with a wide smile. The old man only laughed at himself and sat on the piano bench, waiting for the long leg of time hit six in the evening. 

It had been a couple of good weeks ever since Erik first started work in the restaurant and he was gradually having the time of his life with his new acquaintances. The younger boys were quite the energetic and clingy ones. The other men, the same as his age, were polite and humorous. The older men like Monsieurs Mathis and Michel were the closest to him. They had the sort of company which would make your day full of new adventures. Their gossips from the neighbors had already provided him enough information about the town. He felt content sitting on his chair, observing the people passing by.

"Monsieur Erik, May I seek your assistance?" The young Julien tapped his shoulder and reached for his violin. "I can't seem to fix the tune of my instrument. Perhaps you may know how to deal with this." Erik nodded in reply and they sat together on the stage. Erik carefully held the strings to fix its tune. Julien silently observed the delicate fingers around his violin. He was fascinated with the masked man's precision. For another moment, Erik was finally satisfied with his result and lifted the bow against the strings.

With a snap of wind, a beautiful melody surrounded the walls of the silent restaurant. All of the people inside averted their gazes to Erik's way as he softly played the instrument with confidence and surrender. Monsieur Michel walked his way near the stage and stared at Erik's waving figure. The song he was playing was unknown and exotic to them. His closed eyes and slightly parted lips showed them his true devotion for music. Julien could only do but kneel on his feet and the others weakly sat on the vacant chairs, savoring the sweet tune of the violin. 

When the song had finally reached its end, Erik lifted the bow away from the strings and slowly opened his eyes. His surprise came along with the loud applause from his colleagues. He widened his soft eyes in question when Michel tapped his shoulder quite heavily. "Heaven bless you, Erik! I didn't know you could play the violin so alluringly!"

"You play so great, Monsieur Erik! I bet, even greater as Mozart himself!" Julien clapped and reached for the violin from Erik's grasp. Erik smiled awkwardly and bowed to them. He did not expect some commotion happening with his playing. All he did was test the sound of the instrument.

"If ever Julien gets sick, you know who to ask." Mathis chuckled as he clapped along with the others.

"T-Thank you. I did not mean such a surprising event. I merely tried it to hear the right tune." Erik explained innocently and Michel only tightened his hold on his shoulder assuringly. 

"Do not worry, Erik. You are truly appreciated here. I'm sure the boys would love to hear more from you next time. You showed such amazing skills! The piano and violin, who could do that?" The lot chuckled and when the mother clock ticked from the corner, all of them had finally dispersed, leaving Erik stunned and awed. 

This was what it felt like being praised for such a simple achievement. He never dreamed of being appreciated before but he once longed to express what he could do. Don Juan Triumphant was his mere example of trying to produce something so that he could gain a reward to survive and to carry for the rest of his life. But he huffed at the thought that his magnum opus had done nothing but brought pain for the person he truly cared. This act that he had done and was received gave him goosebumps. He would have to savor it while he still could.

Erik sat on his piano bench and noticed the little wink Julien gave him. He smiled in return and spread his fingers on the ivory keys. Several customers came to dine in the restaurant with delightful faces. He played the most extravagant piece he had known to make the atmosphere as jovial as it was yesterday. Monsieurs Michel and Mathis would spend the entire evening chatting along with the people passing by outside and Tom's waiters would flock around tables. As for him and his little orchestra, they would enjoy each other's music as though it was their only lifeline. He enjoyed their company and their own adventures with their craft. Only Erik could not tell more about himself, it would risk his life in an instant. All they knew that he was a frustrated musician in heart, but given a gun on his hands instead. 

"There! Let's sit there!" A familiar loud voice boomed from the entrance and Erik slightly looked behind his way. Monsieur Maxime and a few businessmen entered the establishment. Erik heard his companions sneer in annoyance. Mathis and Michel could not intervene because of the grumpy man's company with him. To Erik's dismay, they all sat at the left side, nearest to the orchestra stage. He felt the bitter gaze of the old man at his back but he tried to remove the discomfort by returning to his instrument.

"Look at that man, strange lad, isn't he?" He heard Maxime whisper to his colleagues. This time, he would not thank his sensitive hearing for being able to catch up from the nearest table's business. The bunch of them looked at him and his mask. He refrained himself from looking further and lowered his gaze on the keys.

A few of them were also intrigued to the new citizen working in Michel's business. Erik continued ignoring them until he heard Maxime's chair shift loudly and he felt his presence behind him. 

"Hey. Remember me?" The old man asked with a snide tone. Erik only hummed. 

"Tsk, Arrogant as always. My friend here requested a song." He said which made Erik stopped playing and stood, facing him. Maxime slightly flinched with the masked man's tall, looming figure. But he immediately composed himself and cleared his throat. 

"Then, May I ask your friend what he wants me to play?" He spoke intensely, with his once soft eyes, shining in intimidation. Maxime took a step backward and called for his blond companion what song he wanted to hear. When the stranger replied, Maxime smiled hesitantly at him.

"He said he wants you to play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, Third Movement!" Maxime replied loudly for the people to hear. The orchestra gasped in shock. It was one of the intense and hardest pieces to play. Julien was sure he could not accompany their pianist this time. They slowly set down their instruments hesitantly and stared at Erik in dismay. _You're on your own, Monsieur._

 _"_ Then I shall for your friend, Monsieur. As for you, I would ask for you to shut up and listen."

But Julien was startled when Erik only smirked. He gently stretched his fingers and put them on the first few keys. With a sharp intake of breath, he started the piece with flexibility and quickness. The people listening quietly were holding themselves tightly. They seemed like they had stopped breathing and hearing as they listened to Erik's perfect playing. Even Maxime and his company sat on their seats with their hands clung heavily on their armrests. They were all waiting for Erik to make a mistake. But unfortunately, he was not an amateur.

His years spent on just playing his organ and composing endless notes gave him enough skill to perfect the fluidity of his hands. Loud notes boomed around his lair with both anger and happiness, providing him enough practice to express his emotions through every key. His splayed fingers pushed every ivory piece with softness and speed. Julien could not even sense how long he was staring at Erik's hands. Erik slightly raised his head to stretch his neck, even playing. 

"Dear God, who is this man?" Mathis whispered behind Michel and the other could only nodded absently. 

Monsieur Maxime snapped out of his trance and decided to slowly approach the pianist's back with quiet steps. The people behind him could not even see him amidst the loud playing. This was an advantage for him as he slowly lifted his hand towards Erik's right side.

With just a simple, short pull, they would see what monstrosity the man was hiding beneath his cold mask. They would scream and gasp in disgust as he would reveal the mysterious man's true figure. He could almost imagine their terror and his satisfaction to be able to defeat his new enemy. For humiliating him and for threatening his presence.

With just a pull, he would laugh in victory. But just before he could feel the cold porcelain from the mask, a large, pale hand reached for his wrist and held it tight. Maxime shouted in pain when he felt a bone crack underneath his skin.

The playing stopped, gasps sounded around the room and cold, dark eyes looked against pale, blue ones. Erik faced the man with a shadow on his face. He approached him slowly with a snarl and jaw clenched in anger. "So this is your plan along, Monsieur, hm?"

"Let me go, you bastard!" Maxime sneered while trying to pull Erik's fingers away from his skin. He could almost feel his skin burn. 

"Do you want to see what's beneath my face? Do you want to be cursed with endless nightmares for the rest of your life?" Erik spoke with so much darkness on his tongue. On the other side, Julien felt himself tremble in slight fear.

"W-What do you mean?! Who are you?!" Maxime yelped in pain as he felt his cold hand hold him more tightly. Before Erik could tell who he is and unleash the demon he was trying so hard to hide, Monsieur Michel went in between them, stopping him from further humiliation. 

"That, Maxime, is our good friend, Monsieur Erik Daae. A once, loyal servant of France and a great artist of his craft. Whom you so wanted to humiliate in front of my scared customers. I care for their needs just as much as I care for my employees'. I might insist your companions to stay whenever they wish, but you... best not be here now. If my pianist did not want you here, so am I." With a deep and harsh tone, Michel silenced Monsieur Maxime's yelping and Erik had quickly let go of his bruising wrist. 

The grumpy man held on his wrist with care and sneered at the men who wanted him out. "You'll get what you all deserve soon, Monsieurs. Do not ever forget that."

"Yeah, right. Out of you. But better pay what you just put in your stomach." Mathis said before he let Maxime out of the door. The man only reached for his pocket and threw the money to the guard's face. "That's your filthy money, peasant!" He ran away and without a minute, the guests began to divert back into their businesses once again. The companions Maxime brought talked like nothing happened.

Michel looked at the raging figure behind him and saw Erik's left, unmarred face, filled with red. "Erik, are you-" Before he could finish his question, Erik ran to the locker room and loudly closed the door in rage. 

In the small, quiet place of temporary solitude, Erik led out a wrathful scream and punched the hard wall with his right hand. He gasped for air and he felt his eyes warm in tears. His teeth clenched tightly and his body trembled in both fear and vex. He had never felt angry like this since the night of Don Juan. His temper almost eating him whole and weakening his senses. _Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place?!_ He was back at it again. He was going back to his dark, bitter home. 

His legs weaken from walking around and knelt on the ground, eyes filled with flowing tears. He never even bothered to remove the mask, afraid someone might snatch it away from him again. He was afraid. Not a day passed by when he would not shiver in fear of his life, lowering his head from their eyes and wearing his cloak with so much protection. Even if he would laugh in front of his friends, his sadness was still there. He could not even tell when was the last time he felt so lonely. Because every day, he was always lonely.

Erik could not bear to hear the shrilling screams again. That was why he did not even hesitate to try to hurt the intruder of his almost, satisfying life. He would willingly strangle him if he could. But not now, not when he was doing right. His shoulders tremble between his whimpers. He looked nothing but helpless, weak and miserable.

He did not even sensed when someone opened the door and entered the cold room. He kept his gaze down until he saw small feet walking towards him. He raised his head and saw the kind, lonely face of Elena Van Harriette. She knelt in front of him and held gently on his chin. 

"I'm here. Don't worry." She whispered as she rubbed his trembling shoulders. He widened his eyes when he saw her so calm and kind beside him. He flinched at her warm touch but did not push her away. He whimpered faintly and stared at her dark, shiny eyes.

"Why are you here?" he asked weakly. She only smiled and continued to caress his wet cheek. "I was supposed to take out some food again but I saw Michel's solemn face. I already sensed there was a problem."

"He told me about you and Maxime and I got worried. I asked where you were and he asked me to at least comfort you while I still can." She reached for his one hand while the other wiped his tears away. He stopped whimpering and stared at her with gratitude. Christine was the only person who could comfort and touch him like this. There was no other, then Elena came into his life. Could it be?

"Thank you. But you did not have to do this." He replied and absently felt his head rest on her bare shoulder. She hushed him softly and rubbed his back.

"No, please. Let me do this for you, not just because you saved my life once. I just wanted you to know that you can trust me." She replied and kissed his sweaty forehead. He gasped faintly when he relished the flowery smell coming from her and heard her kind words.

"I feel so cold." He whispered near her ear. He faced her slowly and stared at her sincere eyes. She was so beautiful.

"Then let me make you warm." She slightly tilted her head and slowly closing the distance between them. He felt her warm breath against his face and he could see their lips almost touching.

But it did not. He abruptly pulled away his head and stared at the other side of the room. He could not kiss her. He could not give her what she deserved. Just as much as he could not give Christine what she wanted. He loved her still. His heart beating, only for her. No one else. 

He could do anything. Kiss the woman in front of him and love her until his last breath. Save her from the nest of vipers and whores and provide her a simple, happy life. Except that he could not and he did not want to. He could not fool his own heart. It was too much for him to bear. He had promised Christine that he would come back for her. He could do anything he can. But he did not want to. 

Erik heard her sigh and her eyes almost shone with tears. He immediately felt bad for what he had done to her. She had showed him kindness and here he was, rejecting her. He slowly reached for her other shoulder and encircled his arm around her. Elena loved the warmth exerting from Erik's body and she wanted it to stay around her.

She had never felt this comfortable with a man before. With all the men who had touched her, kissed her, violated her and hurt her, no one could make an overwhelming effect except from the man beside her. His form, his voice and his eyes captivated her heart, melting her with pleasure and gentleness. His tears made her soul cry for his sorrow. She wanted to touch him as he was touching her right now. For now. While she still could.

"Looks like we are birds with the same feather, hm?" He asked with a faint smile on his face. Elena giggled in delight as she encircled her arm around his back too. Both of them seeking life from each other, touching each other's hearts. Elena wished this would last longer. Because she had never fallen in love until he came into her life. Erik Daae, her knight in a shining armor except... there were no knights in shining armors. Only men with their own masks. But his mask was extraordinary.

"So we need to flock together?" She asked playfully.

"We'll see." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm actually getting to the real thing and I'm so done with filler chapters. Kidding! I'm imagining Ramin crying in this chapter and I just wanna hug him so bad.  
> Btw, Watch Kassia's Moonlight Sonata 3rd Movement, it's so good!
> 
> Thanks for reading this chapter! Just wanna tell about my experience with watching Anastasia the Musical and I am so itchy to make an Anastasia/Gleb Fanfic soon. I mean, Ramin?


	15. The New Calling

** The New Calling **

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Breeze of spring passed by through the opened windows of the De Chagny Estate. Christine stood out near the window and embraced the fresh air from outside. She always loved looking out from indoors and observing how the wind blows the beautiful landscape of the front yard. She had learned to love the place but she would sometimes hate the massiveness of it. Most of the times, she would still get lost and ask some stewards around where was this room and there. But she would spend the rest of her day, either in the library or the garden, sitting on the grass. 

"Madame, Lunch is ready." Her personal maid named Perinne called out to her from the door. She looked back and returned inside gracefully. She sighed as she felt her stomach growl in hunger. 

What irritated Christine was her sudden mood swings. She knew she was giving Raoul too much work on dealing with her and she could not even stop her temper. This issue started since her attendance from the last gala. Her emotions would sometimes trigger in so many awkward ways. But most of the time, she would just grab a small snack every other hour, not being able to stop her growling belly. She did not know where these all came from.

When she arrived in the dining hall, she was met by Raoul beside her seat. They both smiled at each other as they sat together. She took a glance to the De Chagny sisters and she suddenly felt her blood boil, which is unexpected for her. She also saw Philippe De Chagny tapping the table loudly. She was all but annoyed today.

The stewards had started setting their meal when the older Comte De Chagny finally sat weakly on his seat. Freshly cooked tuna and cream soup were served in front of Christine. Naturally, she would devour it with hunger and freedom. But when she took her first bite, she crumpled her face in disgust. Raoul seemed to have noticed her discomfort. "Christine, are you alright? Is the food not to your liking?" He softly whispered. 

"Oh, dear. She seemed to have expected something more than our fresh fish." Henrietta sarcastically remarked which made Raoul looked back at her irritatingly. 

"No, Raoul. My stomach just feels so strange. It'll pass." She assuringly replied to him. Raoul went back into his food and Christine drank her orange juice quite straightly. She felt so strange.

She took another bite from the food and then suddenly, bile rose up from her throat and she retched. Raoul dropped his utensils and held on Christine's hands. "Oh, Christine! What's happening to you? You don't feel so well." 

She was unable to answer Raoul when she felt her legs run to the nearest washroom, left from the dining hall. When she reached the lavatory, she immediately retched more loudly and vomited. Christine sensed Raoul behind her and rubbed her back. He pulled most of Christine's long curls from her face and supported her stomach with a firm hand. "Christine, please tell me what's wrong."

Raoul began to worry more of her condition. She could not stop retching and it almost took ten minutes before she finally relaxed and gasped for air. He sat her on the edge of the tub and wiped her wet lips. "Is it the food? I will replace yours with new-"

"No, Raoul. It's not that. My stomach, my appetite. They've been acting differently since the gala." She replied, tiringly. 

"I understand. I shall call for a doctor. I'll walk you to your room."

"No, Raoul. I'm okay." She led out a lazy hand but Raoul only stopped her.

"Not this time, Christine. We're married now and whatever happens to you will be my responsibility too. I care for you. Now come and hold my arm." Raoul led out his strong arm and Christine weakly clung on to it. They both walked slowly upstairs from the washroom and inside, he gently laid her on the bed and asked her maid for water and towel.

"I asked the butler to fetch our doctor. You'll be fine, we're just going to consult your condition." said Raoul with a soothing tone. He caressed her flushed cheek as she tried her best keeping her eyes open. She never felt this weak before and she thought she was gonna vomit her insides out.

"I don't like feeling this way, Raoul." she faintly spoke. Raoul only kissed her forehead and continued to rub her knuckles.

"I know, my love. But this won't last. Just hold on for me, hm?" His face looked like she was suffering from a terrible illness but she knew it was only the retch which was bothering her.

A few moments after, a male doctor came in their room and gently sat beside her bed. "Good Afternoon, Madame. I'm Doctor Varlosi. I am the De Chagny's official physician." he politely introduced himself to her. She nodded and smiled faintly. "I'm Christine, Doctor."

"Well, Madame Christine. Can you tell me what you are feeling right now?" He asked and led out a few simple tools to use on the side table. 

"The bile in my throat won't stop. I kept on retching nothing. It was horrible." She replied in worry. Raoul touched her forehead, making sure she had no fever.

"She was not burning in fever, doctor. She said her stomach was upset." Raoul added for analysis.

"Hm, I see. Well, there are two possibilities, one of them might be the effect of her vomiting. For now, I must ask you, Monsieur Le Vicomte, to step outside of the room for a little while. I will perform a simple test for her privately, please." The doctor remarked before he set his tools completely on the table and Raoul only kissed her cold hand before he huffily went out of the room. He began to flinch and walked around the hall with long strides. He noticed his sisters sitting on one of the stair steps, seemingly to fetch some gossip. He only sneered at them and sent them away. 

Philippe De Chagny and their father went with him afterwards and watched the youngest De Chagny sweat in worry. Before Raoul could turn himself mad, the doctor called for him back and he immediately went inside alone. "What is it, doctor? How is she? What's happened to her?" He quickly asked which made the doctor lift his hands to calm him. 

"Calm down, Monsieur. Don't worry, there was nothing worse that had occurred to her. She's alright now, I had asked for her to rest until tonight. The exhaustion must have tired her. And to answer your last question." He stopped for a moment to breathe.

"The Vicomtess is with child. For six weeks till now. Congratulations, Monsieur." The doctor smiled sincerely and Raoul felt relief wash over him and happiness began to overcome his senses. She was pregnant with his child. He was going to be a father. 

He jumped in joy and laughed rather loudly. The doctor nodded happily at the sight as the young Vicomte went out to the hall and surprised his family. "I'm going to be a father! Ha! This is wonderful!" He embraced his father and the whole family clapped for him in congratulations. 

"I am proud of you, Raoul. I can't believe you will be the first to bear us an heir before your brother." The old man faintly smiled at his youngest son and Raoul received it with joy. Philippe smiled at his brother proudly and embraced him back too. "No matter. As long as my brother's having the time of his life. It's enough."

"Thank you, everyone. I must get back to her now. I will escort the doctor out a little later." He said before he finally bid his family a good day and went back to his wife's bedside. She slept beautifully on their bed and her chest heaved normally. The doctor returned his used tools back in the case and he returned his gaze to Raoul. 

"I will return to check up on her the next two weeks. We had to look closely at your wife's condition day by day. Pregnant women are pretty sensitive, usually. So I only suggest your patience and care." 

"That will do, doctor. Thank you so much for this wonderful news. I will do my best for her." He smiled widely and caressed her cheek gently.

"That is good. For now, we should let her sleep." Raoul stood to escort the doctor out. He glanced for a little while at Christine before closing the door, silently.

Christine woke up with Perinne beside her, carrying a bowl of warm water and towel. "Good afternoon, Madame. I brought you a bowl of water and towel. Is there anything you need?" she asked, politely. Christine only smiled and asked her about what happened.

"The doctor had confirmed it a while ago. That was why you never asked me for sanitary belts since you lived here, Madame. It was... strange. But it was now alright." She giggled as she fixed the sheets covering her body.

"Why? What did the doctor said?" 

"I think it's best for the Vicomte to reveal the good news, instead. He's now coming upstairs. I shall bring you some heavy soup since you haven't finished your meal a while ago." She remarked soothingly to her and stepped outside of her bedroom, leaving her confused. Good News?

Just a few moments, Raoul went inside the room with the biggest smile she had seen of him for the first time. He bouncily sat on her bedside and gently kissed her lips. "I'm so proud of you, my dearest wife." He whispered. She only huffed and slapped his shoulder jokingly. 

"What is it, now?" She asked with impatience.

"Oh, Christine! You are now blessed with child. Our child. We're going to be parents!" He quickly revealed to her with so much happiness and kissed her forehead once again. She gasped in delight as she embraced his neck tightly. "Oh, Raoul! It is good news, indeed!"

"Yes, my love! I promise to you that I would take care of you until you would labor. I promise to be more patient and careful with you. Oh, God. Thank you for making me this happy. I love you." He embraced her waist and held her against his chest. She kissed his jaw and whispered her own love.

She felt relief and joy wash over her entire being. She was now going to be a mother and she would see her child, may it be a son or daughter inheriting either blue or green eyes. Or her curls or his blond hair. She felt so excited for the first time but she was also nervous. She was slightly scared of the facts about pregnant women. Endless cramps, pain and cravings, top of all! But she knew she had to be brave, for her little angel inside her and for her lovely husband. 

She also remembered Erik. He would want to know about this. She was excited to write to him next week about the news! He would be delighted and happy for her. She also remembered how Erik was really fond of children. She was sure he would have loved the baby. She suddenly missed him. Her gentle, kind Angel of Music.

"We should celebrate! Tomorrow, I shall prepare a simple supper for just the two of us." Raoul said as he gently laid her back on bed.

"Curious. Not with your family?" She asked, with a raised brow. Raoul raised a brow back and immediately understanding the sarcasm from her voice. They both chuckled.

"Not now. I would like to spend tomorrow's night with you only. I would have to use my precious time before your tummy bloats." He seductively whispered near her hear which made her giggle louder. "Raoul! I'm with child!"

"We'll see if it'll work." He softly kissed her swollen lips in surrender.

Raoul gaspingly laid beside her as he pulled the sheets on their naked bodies. He kissed the back of her curls and encircled his arms around Christine's thin waist. "See? I told you it'll work." he smirked in delight.

"You just completely pulled the soul away from me." Christine laughed along with her small gasps. She faced him and kissed his lips tenderly. They were both spent and now they would just like to lay beside each other's warmth in their cocoon of love. Christine caressed Raoul's chest as he whispered loving words near her ear. 

"I want a boy." Raoul said, out of the blue. Christine raised her head at him in question. "What if its a girl?"

He slightly shook his head but he smiled, eventually. "Either way, I will cherish our baby with all my heart and soul. I will protect him and I will love him as I love you. Forever."

"You're too good, Raoul. I can't wait for our baby to be born. I just imagined a little bundle of sunshine, with blue or green eyes and with brown curly or blond sand hair." She fantasized with longing. She could definitely see how beautiful the child would be if he ever inherited Raoul's handsome looks. 

"I pray to God that I would not make bad choices this time. I have to learn and I have to be patient with myself." Raoul said as he tightened his hold on Christine. She squinted her eyes and brushed the loose hair from his forehead. "What's wrong?"

He only sighed. "Nothing, my love. I just thought about how we would handle this. This is something new in our lives and I hope I could do it right."

"Oh, Raoul. Do not worry about these things. You have me and your family to help you. Being a father doesn't have to be perfect in an instant. It's progress. My father was very young when he and my maman had me. He was inexperienced with children but he eventually grew to be a good father to me. He loved me with all his heart. He had shared his music with me." She assured him with a kiss on his forehead. Raoul sighed with the sudden memory.

Gustave Daae was one of the few people who had treated Raoul with fondness and fairness. When he had known that he was a little Vicomte, he did not change his treatment of him. He was kind, humorous and talkative. Just like his Christine. He insisted on telling them children's stories and playing the violin for them. His dark, brown eyes would shine along the ocean sun and his black, curly hair would sway along the wind. Raoul had a lot of good memories with the father and daughter. That was why when they had left Perros, he was distraught and he felt more lost when he had found out that her father died, leaving Christine before she could reach her adolescence. If anything, he would have thanked him personally for letting him marry his daughter.

"If only your father's here. I would have asked for his advice." He suddenly saw Christine's face gloom in sadness. He immediately asked her what was wrong.

"I miss Papa. I forgot to visit him before our wedding. I should have been there." Christine felt warm tears coming out from her eyes. Raoul rubbed her back soothingly. 

"Would you like to visit him tomorrow?" He asked, with an assuring smile on his face. Her face bloomed with joy.

"Will you take me? I would love to introduce you to him again as my husband." She replied, her white pearls shining through the moonlight.

"Of course! I am deeply honored for such appreciation." He said, imitating an ordinary high class men which made Christine giggle against his chest. "Thank you." she whispered before she felt her eyes close, succumbing under the night once again.

A faint sunlight directly hit towards Christine's closed eyelid. She squinted her eyes and rubbed them both with her knuckles. She slightly opened her eyes and found the slow, rising sun from their balcony. She felt the urge to walk around the house once again to stretch her legs. She gently moved Raoul's encircled arm around her waist and stood from the bed. She wore her nightgown and silently slipped out from the room. 

Her small feet moved her inside the music room and found herself sitting on the piano bench. She opened the lid of the keys and absently put her fingers on the ivory. She pushed random notes of the piano and began to sing a new melody. A song for her little angel of life. _**"Someday I'll feel your skin against mine. I would smell milk and honey around my room and you would reach for my fingers."**_

 _ **"My little bun. I love you and I want to sing for you. I want to lay you on my arms and feel your warmth on my chest."**_ She slowed the pace of her hands around the keys. _**"My little bun. I want to hear you coo. I want to whisper you love and promises."**_

 _ **"My little, My little little, angel of life. Bless me with your beauty and sing us the most beautiful lullaby. My little angel of life, I love you. I will see you when I wake."**_ She stopped playing the piano and set her hands on her flat stomach. _**"My little angel of life. I love you very much."**_

She stood from the bench and opened the windows to welcome the morning fresh air. She inhaled a deep breath and let her curls sway along with the cold wind.

She could hardly believe it. She was to become a mother. She was to become the woman she never once had. While Raoul was struggling to become a real father, she felt the same way. She suddenly missed her teacher's advices. If it were Erik, what would he do? But like her and Raoul, he was also inexperienced. He knew nothing of first love from a mother. He never felt it even once. Her heart cried for his sorrow. 

She heard a small, heavenly voice from her head. She closed her eyes deeply and let her ears hear the music from her mind. Embracing her whole with tender love. "Oh, Erik. I hear you."

_Just love, just live. And give what you can give and take what little you deserve._

* * *

**APRIL 7 1882 PROVINS, FRANCE**

He almost dropped his glass of lemon from his grasp. Christine was pregnant. She was pregnant? He almost felt himself fainting in shock. It had been so fast. So fast to comprehend. Just a few days ago, she came here with a forgiving heart and he had claimed her, in body and soul. Now she was married and with child. Not that he did not like the idea of her having a baby in her stomach. He was so proud of her. This was what she wanted. A nice, happy family living at a big, sunny landscape. It was where she belonged.

A little child? She wanted to name him after her late father. If it were a boy, he would be a little, Monsieur Le Vicomte. With green, bright eyes and brown curly hair. He imagined the little bundle of sunshine around her arms. They would look so beautiful like a painting. He sighed in wonder. 

Most of all, she wanted the boy to know him. As their angel of music. Erik gasped in delight. It was amazing and frightening, at the same time. He began to think of numerous ways how the child would react if he ever saw him. He would cry and ran away behind his mother's skirts. He would crumple in fear and shout to never look at him again. He knew how little boys react. He had seen them once, when he was with the gypsies. The wide, teary eyes and the widely opened mouth full of screaming. He cringed at the thought. But he was Christine's child. Maybe. Just maybe, he would be a little different. 

But he was also the Vicomte's son. More likely, he would become a man of class or to put it simply, a fop. He meant no offense, though. Even though she just told him with just a letter, he came to realize that he liked the idea of meeting her child. A child with her blood. He loved children. Maybe it would be enough. Whatever how he would look like, he would love him with all his heart.

Then Erik tried to take a look of the big picture. A child, a husband and a new life. He palmed his face frustratingly. She would finally forget him. Taking care of a child was hard work and time would run fast for them. She would forget him and she would only focus her mind to the baby. He would be forgotten. He would be unloved. There was no one who would care for him anymore. In conclusion, he was nothing but selfish. Erik breathed a deep sigh. Maybe he was destined to be alone forever. Maybe God had created him only to spite him for eternity. _**"What will happen to me now, this lonely, flying leaf on the cold ground?"**_

 _ **"She will see the child with her eyes, as she brings him to the world. A world, undeserving of an angel's love."**_ He walked slowly near the fireplace and sat on the cold floor.

_**"Maybe there is no redemption for me. Maybe there is no one who wants me. A child of God, born only to see the furrow of his mother's brows."** _

_**"Maybe the angel of music did not want to see me anymore. Maybe there was no angel, at all. Only her. Only my love."**_ Maybe the years of his life would just be a waste. His fate had already been written on stone. She would forget him while he would not.

_**"My music will be over, as it should be that night. Maybe my life will be over, as it should be when I had let her go."** _

_**"I would not hold it against her. I can't do it anymore. She deserves a millenia of happiness. And I will watch her from below our world. I would smile when I hear her voice again. I would laugh when the lines of her eyes show. She will forget me but I will not..."** _

_**"Oh, Christine. I beg you..."**_ His shoulders began to tremble and he began to sob on his crossed legs. _**"Let me love you from afar..."**_

He sat in front of the fireplace, staring absently at the flickering light. He did not even bother to wipe the tears from his cheeks away. He was stunned and his legs numbed. 

The emptiness of his house bothered him up to his core. If he only had the opportunity to waste himself to work, he would. Just not this coldness in his heart. He hated dreaming of her every night, loving her behind her back and smelling the fresh strawberries from her curls. He hated not being there with her, instead of the Vicomte. He hated not being able to walk her around town during Sundays. He hated not being able to be the first person to see the child cradled in her arms. He hated being left over. Yet he loved her.

Her letters were his only saving grace. If she would ever forgot writing to him, he would die. He would crave for her handwriting and her love within her words. He had always wanted for time to pass by a little faster only to expect a post outside his door. The simplicity and the pain of it. Just the sight of her boyish handwriting was enough. She had saved him, once again.

Erik jolted when he heard a loud knock from the door. He realized how much time had passed just sitting near the fire with the letter on his hand. He stood to fix his mask and waist coat and swept the wig on his head. He breathed a sigh and reached for the knob to open the door. He was surprised when Elena stood in front of him, with a wide smile. "Hello, there. Erik."

His mouth began to stutter, "H-Hello, indeed. I did not expect company."

"Oh hush, It's just me. I brought you some food." She lifted a paper bag of food and giggled faintly. She looked behind him and flattened her the curve of her lips. "May I come in?"

"Oh, yes! I'm sorry. Please." He stuttered once again and opened the door widely for her. She put down the hood of her cloak from her braided head and set down the bag on the table. She took a moment to observe the interior of his house. Erik did the honor to remove the cloak from her figure and hang it on the rod. He waited for her to speak back but his patience was a little short. "Here it is. It's not much."

"It's nice and simple. I like it. Although, it's kind of sad that you have to live alone." She furrowed her brows in worry and tapped his shoulder. He only chuckled and shrugged his shoulder.

"I'm used to living alone. Although a little company would not be so bad."

"Of course not! That is why I'm here. I ended my shift a little early and I thought about you." She replied happily. Erik smiled at her and guided her on her seat. He offered her a cold beverage and she took it willingly. They both sat on their dining seats and Elena began to lift out the containers when she noticed Erik's stillness in front of her. She squinted her eyes in question. 

"Well, I'm not the only person who will eat here." She jokingly remarked which made Erik smile awkwardly. 

"I will eat later." he simply replied. Elena became confused.

"What's wrong? Is your stomach upset?"

"No, I-"

"Yes?"

Erik sighed in defeat, gazing upon his fidgeting fingers on his lap. "I can't eat with my mask. I don't want to remove it in front of you." He sadly replied with slumped shoulders. Elena stared at his mask and realized that the heaviness of his mask would make his mouth unable to chew freely. She was saddened with his struggle.

"I would not be offended in anyway if you remove your mask temporarily. If it's going to-"

"No!" He loudly replied which made her jump slightly on her chair. Erik immediately realized his rudeness and steadied his posture. He cleared his throat and spoke again, "I'm sorry. I did not mean to yell at you." He suddenly felt his cravat too tight around his neck. Alright, maybe he did not hate being alone for now.

"N-No, it's alright. If it would bother you at all. I won't object anymore." She humbly answered and began to eat on her own. Erik watched her eat freely and smiled whenever crumbs would stick on the corners of her lips. He reached for a clean napkin beside him.

"May I?" He asked with a smirk. She lifted her head and questioned him again with her eyes. He gently wiped her lips with the cloth and laughed at her for being too careless. She only giggled in return with his gentleness.

"Why, thank you. Monsieur Erik. Pardon me for my mess." she apologized.

"That is alright. Please, do continue. I will just bring you more juice." He stood and walked away to the kitchen. Inside the room, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He thought he was gonna suffocate. He loved her company still, but he was not that fond of being alone with a woman's company. He had a hard time with Christine, even though he was close to her. What of Elena?

"Be a man, Erik! You're not a wimp." He whispered annoyingly to himself. He poured two glasses of lemon juice and set them both on the tray. He carried it and went straight back to the dining area. He noticed her wiping her mouth with the same napkin and setting aside the used plate beside her. He put the glass in front of her and she devoured it slowly. She smiled at the right sweetness and stared at Erik again with fascination. She noticed how his fingers would move gracefully and how his left lip would sometimes curve perfectly. His brows were slightly bushy and it resembled the curve on his flesh mask.

His eyes had bewitched her like a seduced maiden. The amber shades mixed with soft brown ones. She looked at his strong jaw and she loved how it would clench in instinct. Then, with a little tilt of his head, she saw the scar under his lips. No, not a scar. A red form of skin. It was etched simply at the corner of his right lip as though the mask was created to hide this little flaw. Still, she was awed. His jet black hair was flawlessly, swept through the back and she noticed how shiny it was for normal hair.

She sighed. She was, indeed, in love with him. No doubts now. 

And today, she would ask him.

"I was wondering, have you heard about the Bolligny's upcoming ball?" she asked as she finished the last remaining juice from her glass. Erik lifted his gaze at her and nodded.

"Yes, I have. It was to happen next week, as I recall?" he replied. It would be easy, then.

"I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

"If anyone had invited you for a dance?" she waited for him to respond but he only laughed at her strangely. She laughed along with him with awkwardness. _This is not what I was expecting._

"Forgive me. Your question made me just laugh. And to answer you, no one had attempted to." he put his hand on his chest to stop him from chuckling. She shook her head in dismay. Maybe she was blind, but she knew it was not a bad thing to love a different kind of person like Erik.

She had tried feeling for a man once, only to get her hopes down. Men, she had seen, were not as strange as him. Maybe because normal people were born to be dangerous. She had to keep this up if she did not want to lose him. _Oh, Elena. You stupid girl._

"Well, one will attempt now." She replied as she moved her seat beside his. He widened his eyes and quickly fiddled his empty ring finger, tensely. 

"Erik, I want to invite you for a dance at the ball." She asked with strong certainty. _Don't you dare say no now. It would break me._

"Are you sure? I bet there are a few, agreeable men out there rather than me. I'm not a good partner." He nervously replied. This was too much for him. But she seemed so sure. 

"I knew... agreeable men, indeed. But I chose you. Please, it'll be fun!" She hopped. _Oh, come on! Please say yes, damn it!_

"I-hm. I would disappoint you."

"I don't care. I don't want you to be cooped up in here all alone. I promise you, I'll be by your side." 

She must have been so blind and foolish at the same time, he thought. How could a person be so determined to be with him for a night? No one had asked him anything, at all. He longed for being asked for a little thing, but he did not expect to be this big. This change of air and this quick pacing of his life. Dancing with a lady? Who would have known? 

He never danced with Christine, even once. How he wanted her to be around his arms. But that dream was only what it should be. What would the world want with him now? He took a glance at the beautiful woman beside him. She was patiently waiting with her sparkling dark brown eyes at his soft brown ones. This new specimen of the unworldly, holding his forearm with longing. Her wavy hair softly swayed against his strong shoulder. Was this a grand scheme to make him suffer, once again? 

_You thought yourself to be the performer of your own story, but amidst the watching eyes of the audience, someone will always clap first._

Or maybe an opportunity to change his story? He would not want to break her heart by rejecting her invitation. In fact, he would be the most, stupidest and ungrateful wretch in the whole country if he ever say no. He was lucky to be asked by someone as exquisite as her, considering his abhorrent face. He had no choice but to cross his fingers and pray that this time, it was enough to say _I am fine._

"If it will please you, I shall dance with you, Mademoiselle." _Oh, damn it to hell..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey what do you know! My replay button was so done like I've been listening to Still/The Neva Flows track and Ramin's there like WE HAVE A PAST TO BURY, ANYAAAAA
> 
> And what do you know again! Christine's preggy. PERIOD.
> 
> Anyways, Thank for reading this chapter and enjoy it before it gets awfully painful. Kidding!


	16. A Temporary Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another M rated chapter so be warned, as always.

**A Temporary Passion**

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**JUNE 25 1882 PARIS, FRANCE**

Christine had already felt this kind of loneliness. The same loneliness she had felt when her father died on his deathbed. The same loneliness that was long vanquished since the night Erik sang to her. She never wanted to feel this alone. Even without Erik and Raoul, there was always Meg and Madame Giry to stay with her. And now, with a little, bloated belly, she began to feel so upset. Philippe De Chagny invited Raoul quite forcefully on a business trip to Italy and she knew she had no say. Raoul left her a while ago with a regretful heart, although he promised her that he would come back immediately. Now she was inside their cold room, crying her heart out. Her pregnancy was taking a toll on her.

She had wanted to write again to Erik but it was reserved for an another month. She did not want to look so desperate for his attention and she was fearful he might change his mind. She also realized she was left with only her maid and Henrietta downstairs. All the men had left them alone here. She was not really fond of the idea of inferior wives waiting for their husbands to come back and do their deed. She wished she could go out and go to the square again but the doctor suggested for her to stay and rest instead. She stamped her foot with a huff. 

"What should we do, little one, hm?" she asked the child in her tummy absently. She began to caress the bump gently and smiled. _I can't wait to see you, mon ange._ She slid herself out of their room and began her morning rounds in the manor. Usually, it would be the library first but she had decided to stay in the music room for a while to play some new notes. But instead, she opened the corner cabinet and found her father's old violin. She opened the lid carefully and stared at the old beauty of his instrument. 

She happily remembered the memories when her father would grace the squares of France and Sweden with his woefully playing. Along with him was little Christine, with her red scarf and green shiny cloak, sat on the middle of the crowd singing foreign folk songs. She would see people smiling at them and putting coins in their rusty can. The money from the day's performance would be enough to buy them soup and meat. Her father was young, almost the same age as Erik now, when he traveled around the world with her in tow. He was flirty and a humorous individual, especially with high class women and wives. He would only indulge himself on playing for them and singing with his seven year old daughter. But most of the time, in their small, dusty apartment, he would sing her lullabies and tell her stories about the angel of music. Then before she could close her eyes, he would rub his nose on hers and kiss her forehead. _Sleep now, my little mon ange._ Then he would say goodbye.

Then morning and morning came until Christine was nine years of age. They were in Paris, seeking a job from the Opera House. They resided in a small apartment near the square and it was spring when he complained with a pain in the chest. At first, they thought it was just a simple inconvenience. Until he could no longer walk and eat. Christine would pray all night for her father to heal, she would sing him lullabies instead and rub her little noise on his. He would nod and smile and say, _I love you so much, my Christine._

The last, cold night came, a woman wearing mourning clothing came knocking on their door and introduced herself as the Opera's ballet mistress. Christine squinted her eyes and ask her father who she was. _My name is Antoinette Giry, I am a friend of your father._ She remembered how Madame Giry gently sat beside him and held his pale hand. Christine was excused by her father for a moment and she recalled how the older woman lowered her head beside his lips and he whispered something. Before she could go down to drink water, she noticed Madame Giry do something that she would not forget until her last breath. 

She had kissed his lips and smiled for the first time since her husband's death. _What about the girl?_ She asked. The older lady called her back and she laid beside her dying father for one last time. _Papa, why are you crying?_ She asked with wet eyes. Gustave Daae laid dead on that bed and kissed his daughter on the forehead. She then rubbed her nose on his, not knowing it would be their last night together. **_Just love, just live and give what you can give and take what little you deserve. I love you. Please stay while I'm still sleeping. One day, I will send the angel of music to you and through him you will love. Through him you will sing and through him you will change a life. Don't be afraid of him for he will shine like the sun and will keep you safe from the dark._**

 _Papa, will we sing again tomorrow?_ She regretted that question with all her heart. Her father only smiled faintly and nodded. Then he had finally closed his eyes. She stayed for a few hours, sleeping on his heaving chest until the morning came when Madame Giry woke her up only to feel the coldness of his skin and the stillness of his heart. _When will Papa wake up?_

 _My poor dear. Your papa is with the angels now. Blessing the world with beautiful melodies._ And with that, she cried in the arms of a stranger. It was painful. Too painful for a little girl. Too painful for a daughter. They both cried in front of his body. She had suffered. She realized she was now alone. The same loneliness she was now feeling inside her music room. Being alone. She hated being alone. The darkness of the corners of the room was eating her alive. She longed for everyone. She longed for Raoul, Madame Giry, Meg and even Erik. Her dearest Erik. Her angel of music. 

If only her Papa was here. Her Papa had the same compassion she had. The same compassion she had shared with Erik. And she prayed that he would be able to share it to others as well. _Compassion is not to be savored alone, Christine. It was to be shared to generation and to centuries. But it depends on the person, if he wants it or... he needs it._ She had accomplished that task. For Erik. She had never felt this proud before. 

But life was now changing. She was once a naive, innocent girl. She was once a scared child, being comforted by a disembodied voice and willingly surrendered her life to him. But time had gone by when she had decided to be strong, independent and happy for herself. She was trying to reach for the light. That night, it was neither Raoul nor Erik who had saved her. It was herself. But it was hard enough for a person to save herself and pull another one with him. But she did. She had pulled herself from the dark, while holding her maestro's hand. _God give me courage to show you, you are not alone._ She had prayed that night. She had prayed for the person who truly needed guidance, Erik. She was so focused on herself that she had not realized that it was him who was suffering more. She was selfish and she was not. She was saved and so was he.

Christine Daae was not the damsel in distress in this story. She was the hero of her own story. And she had encouraged Erik to write his own too. _It was exciting to read a story, when someone wants to listen._ What a wonderful revelation! She chuckled with herself as she returned the violin in the case. She missed her Papa and she missed Erik. 

She opened the windows from the music room and smelled the fresh air. She stared at the wide landscape of France from far away. Paris was a big part of her life. It was when she had learned to sing, she had learned to love and she had learned to be herself. Erik was in love with Paris too. No matter how hardheaded and cold he once was, his love for Paris was undying. For him, it was beauty and ugliness. Life and Death. Love and Pain. She suddenly missed walking around the market and scouting the street with Meg. She wanted to go out. But she would have to wait. It was always worth it.

She softly yawned from her mouth and laid on the room's divan. She closed her eyes and temporarily succumbed herself to sleep.

"Good Morning." she simply remarked while she watched him swinging silently. When he saw her behind the left tree, he smiled widely in return. "You're back." 

"I hope I'm not disturbing you." she slowly approached and sat with him on the mat swing. The man sneaked his arm behind her shoulders.

"No, not at all. I was actually waiting for you." his soft, brown eyes began to shine through the sunlight. She loved this view.

"I'm sorry I took so long."

"It's alright." They both fell in to silence as they watched the sun slowly setting down. She laid her head on his shoulder and began to hum a melody faintly. Christine had always wanted to watch the sun set in her dreams. She felt that the totality of the manor had blocked her sight from the view. It was refreshing for her.

"Are you alone everyday?" she suddenly asked. He averted his gaze upon her and furrowed his brows in question. But he eventually answered sincerely. 

"Yes."

"If I had not slept today, you would still be here alone?"

"Indeed." He sighed. It was just like Erik. If she had not sang for him, he would still be alone. She did not like leaving anyone alone. 

"Would you want to join me?" she asked, setting her chin on his shoulder. He only smiled.

"I can't. I am a fantasy."

"You're not. I know you."

"Then who am I?" he scooted away to see her fully. His face saddened, merely thinking why this woman would force unto him something he did not wish to have. 

"Erik. It's you."

"Who's Erik?" he asked, with a questioning glare. She noticed how he moved slowly away from her, but she reached for his arm tightly. "You!"

"Whatever you are thinking of me, Christine. I am not Erik. I am no one."

_**"Then tell me who you are!"** _

_**"I am no one!"** _

_**"Why are you here?!"**_ she sang, more desperate.

_**"Because you are here! I am here because of you!"** _

"Then don't leave." she painfully let go of his hand and cupped her wet cheeks. He sat beside her again and rubbed her trembling shoulders. "Don't cry, Christine."

"Why am I dreaming like this?" she asked between her tears. 

"Maybe because there is a missing piece in your life."

"I don't understand."

"You once told yourself that you wanted to say goodbye. To finally be free and happy. Help you say goodbye. Give you strength to try. Then why am I here, Christine?" she fell silent, only savoring the soft rubs on her back. She began to think. This was a new challenge of her life.

While she was becoming lonely these trying days, she was longing for someone again. She was strong, as Erik would say. But she grew to be a person with guidance at her side. She did not want to be left alone, therefore she tried fantasizing for a companion, instead. She had been free, only to long for a person free with her. Raoul had done a great job being a husband, he had filled the void in her heart. But he had not completely pulled the suffering from her. She felt that she was still missing something. It was as though she was still back in the small, cold apartment, with just her dying father at her side. She had moved on, indeed. But was moving on really her saving grace?

There was a missing piece in her life. A companion. A person guiding her. A person who would acknowledge her. She should be independent, not alone. There was a huge difference. She was now free and happy, but she was alone. She hated being alone. She wanted someone by her side. She hated how pregnancy had made her so emotional. She felt that if the darkness continued to frighten her, she would die.

"Because I need you." she merely whispered after crying on his shoulders. He embraced her tightly and chuckled within her curls. "Raoul only left for a trip, he will come back."

"Still..."

"I'm here, then. That is my purpose."

"It is your purpose."

He moved his lips slowly to kiss her forehead but she lifted her gaze and stared at his eyes, instead. She looked at the soft lips, which she thought should be deformed, instead. She closed her eyes and sought the same lips with hers. She kissed him with the same passion and longing. This man was enough. He had promised he would be here if she so wanted. His soft hands began to roam around her small waist and she grabbed them both gently. "Stay with me."

He pulled her more against his warm body and cupped her jaw to kiss her deeply. She moaned when his tongue began to seek her mouth. "Christine..." he whispered within her lips. Her hands gently caressed his bare chest within his shirt. She felt the same heat from her palm. The same feeling she had touched, under the night in a small cabin. His hands went on her bare shoulders and her arms without breaking the intimate contact. Every touch was too much for the both of them, but it was too late to stop now.

"Touch me, Erik." She reached for his hand and put it against her heaving chest. He stared at her intensely as he caressed the plump of her breasts. She breathed a deep sign when his lips reached down on her neck and clavicles, kissing them with gentleness and leaving a mark within her skin. He slowly laid her down on the soft grass and began to pull the strings of her thin dress. 

Her hands also roamed around the thin fabric of his shirt and slowly began to unbutton the lower pins from his warm stomach. "Do you want to wake up?" he asked on the skin of her neck, she shivered with the sudden vibration from his breath. "Not just yet." Her hands had finally accomplished on pulling away his shirt and she stared at his lean chest, heaving tensely. 

His hands had pulled the strings and dress away, revealing her body only with her corset and drawers. "May I?" he asked and she only nodded in longing. He smiled and sat her on the grass, helped her unbutton her corset behind. She sat there, waiting for a miracle to come save her again. He kissed her nape with assurance as he pulled the corset away and reached for her waist from behind. "Christine?" he waited for her acceptance.

She reached for his hands once again and put them both gently on the peaks of her breasts. Christine heard him shudder a breath and he made her face him, finally being able to stare at the exquisite view he was being offered. He awed in fascination and kissed her softly on the forehead. "You are beautiful, Christine Daae. I do not deserve such gift."

"You had already said that to me once." she whispered, while caressing his chin. 

"I did." he simply replied as he laid her again on the grass and roamed his lips on her neck. His hands cupped her breasts and she led out a soft moan. He kissed her down on to her chest and on one peak, giving her the pleasure she wanted. Her body began to heat and she heaved with pleasure. His fingers caught the pink flesh and he loved how it pebbled under his attention. He suddenly felt overwhelmed but he did not want to stop.

His kisses went down to her flat stomach and on to her navel. He noticed that her drawers was quite a disturbance to their temporary peace. But before he could pull the cloth away, Christine pushed him to kneel and gently pulled his shirt away from his shoulders. They were both bare above their hips and savored the freedom in their little world. "Don't be afraid." he lovingly whispered.

"I'm not afraid." His hands slowly grabbed the edge of her linen and pulled them from her legs. She laid there, shivering from the emptiness without his hands. She watched him pulling away his pants, feeling the strange sensation when she found how gorgeous he was in her dreams. But she knew Erik was not him. Not like him. This man was a fiction, he was not. He was perfect, but Erik was beautiful.

He went back on her and kissed the skin just above her navel. His hands reached for the wet, tender flesh between her legs. She writhed in surrender as his finger rubbed the small nub teasingly. "Don't stop, I beg you." Her hips followed the movement as he thrust a finger inside her. He groaned in pleasure. Heaven help him, how he wanted this. He moved a knee between her and drove her further open, spreading her to his perusal. His own hardness was trapped between their bodies and she seemed to notice the movement, grinding against him with boldness and wanting. "God, Christine."

She gripped him firmly when she cried out on his neck, stiffening beneath him. He could wait no longer. He wanted to plunge himself deep inside her, feel the heat of her body enveloping him until the flames consumed them both. He sought her mouth once again, seeking her tongue with his own as he lifted himself between her and spread her legs more further. With overwhelming pressure and lust, he sank himself deep inside her.

She led out a soft cry as he began to push slowly, pulling her into the depths of their world. Her fingers dug into his back and her thighs quivered, encircled around him. "Oh, my dearest angel." he whispered sweetly as he pushed inside her slowly, his lips not breaking from hers and his hands touching the side of her ribs.

His thrusts began to move frantically, reaching for the wanted feeling within their bodies. Her loud gasps of delight fortified his confidence. He groaned when she clenched around him so deliciously, her moans panted near his ear and he realized he could not gain control anymore. He pushed and pushed until her cries became more breathless, and his sense of hearing deteriorated with only the sound of continuous contact of their skin, slapping together. 

She cried a name out loud as her body began to tighten in spasms and shivered only in success. He pushed for one last time as he felt himself trembling, spending his release with a melodic moan. Their entire bodies joined with warmth. He grabbed the folded blanket under the swing and covered themselves with it. He laid beside her on the soft ground and whispered soft words of love within her curls. She caressed his heaving chest and left a small kiss. "The sun has finally set." she said as she saw the night slowly mixing with the yellow skies.

"It has. It was beautiful." He moved the little strands of hair from her cheeks and softly kissed them with tenderness. He stared at her with worship while she watched the sky darkening at last. 

"You should go back."

"Why?" she asked as she lifted herself to sit.

"This has to finish, Christine. You have to be out there and not force yourself in some fantasy." he replied, kissing her shoulder.

"But I am out there! At least while I am sleeping."

"Be strong enough to live without me. Strong enough to live without him. Strong enough to be you."

"My father. If he had not promised me an angel, I should have not wasted my time waiting for a companion to come. I should have not reached for a hand to rely upon."

"But you would have been lonely, forever." He smiled as he embraced her comfortingly. She sobbed against his chest and dug her nails on his ribs.

"No one will leave you, I swear. Think of the little angel in your body, Christine. You are not alone. He'll always be there until you lift him up to the world."

"But what if-"

"There are no what ifs, my dear. Just live. Be strong, wipe your tears and stand high. And tell yourself I am _loved._ " _**And don't ever think you are alone.**_

She woke up alone in the same room. The darkness within the corners was still there. If she was too unwilling to realize that she was not alone, she would feel the pain slowly eating her whole. This would not work. Nothing would work. Her father, Madame Giry, Raoul and Erik had always been there and they did not leave her. It was as though they did not want her to live by herself. They had showered her with love and friendship, to the point that she did not want to lose them. Now she had not passed that point yet and she was scared to realized that. She thought that they she owed them something just as much as they owed her something too. 

She hated being alone. She did not want to be alone. And she did not want to, even if she would suffer the consequences. Why was she born this way? Why was Gustave Daae's death had to be such a burden upon her, to the point that she could no longer stand without looking up if he was still there on his bed? To the point that if she could not feel something near her, she would faint? 

_You are wrong, Erik. I am not strong._

* * *

**APRIL 15 1882 PROVINS, FRANCE **

** **

**Translation**

_Daroga,_

_This will be the first time I would write to you since the night after Don Juan. I apologize for the late update. As you might need to know, I'm currently residing in the town of Provins, France. It was quite an uptown but fear not, it was convenient for my current change of living. Also, I had now long forgotten the horrible events and decided to move on gradually with my life. My life has been nothing but full of hate and disgust that was why I decided to use them as my form of weapons to protect me. You must understand, hopefully._

_It was hard to change easily, It was almost scary and frustrating at the same time. I had already given up hoping for the light. I had begged to the world for a sign, just one and I can go back to where I so long ago wanted to be. To feel that I still belong, at least. The world gave me Christine Daae. And I was grateful. I will learn._

_I_ _had sought a job as a pianist for a luxury restaurant. The people are accommodating enough, for a lie, at least. I had no assurance that my birth would be accepting for them. I tried, many times and look what it had gotten me. The lie of being a serviceman is tolerable enough, knowing that my ugliness was a sacrifice for the good of France._

_Forgive me, Daroga. For these confessions, may it seem kind or cruel. As for Christine Daae, she is now married to the Vicomte De Chagny and is blessed with a child. She can finally forget me and live as how she had dreamt it. It may not be too kind for me before, but I realized that she deserved it more than I could have. She will always be the love of my life and my savior. For her, I shall reach for the light once again. And try harder._

_I shall send another letter soon. I hope to see you once again, my good friend._

_Sincerely yours,_   
_Erik_

"Ready?" he asked as he saw Elena going out from the brothel, wearing an elegant ball gown with confidence. He smiled at her sudden boyish giggle. She looked more gorgeous as though he did not fit by her side. "You look good, Monsieur." she commented with a bright smile on her face.

He wore a well tailored black tail coat along with a white waistcoat and cravat. This was a big contrast compared to his usual type of clothing. But better be a part of the crowd than a wallflower. Erik lifted his arm for her to hook on and she responded with her gentle touch. "We look like a perfect pair." she muttered.

"Really?" Erik asked, with a raised brow and a small smirk. She giggled again and slapped a shoulder. 

"Yes. And I like it." she confirmed. He breathed a sigh and nodded as a fair response. He walked with her freely, along with other invited couples, to the town's ballroom. As they both had stepped at the grandiose territory, Erik gasped a lot of air. He was stunned how crowded the place was, mostly dancing figures with delightful faces. This was a bit too much, too many people around him. He shivered the thought. 

Elena seemed to notice his sudden discomfort and tightened her hold on his forearm. They stared both at each other and she smiled at him with comfort. _It's okay._ She moved slowly to the corner of the ball room with him as she guided him towards where their orchestra had resided. He slowly calmed down when he saw his friends behind the small stage and he felt as though he would faint in relief. 

"Oh! Erik! Elena! Come, come!" Monsieur Michel called them behind and lifted his arms to embrace the both of them. "You look both dashing! And Erik, you scream dominance!" Michel regarded to them and all Elena could do was laugh at the sight of Erik's flushed face. He cleared his throat and spoke to her.

"Clearly he's just joking." he said between fake chuckles. Michel put hold of his shoulder and the old man suddenly pointed a finger towards the corner of the stage. "That's Monsieur La Vinni, our lead singer tonight. We hired him for a reasonable price but I am quite nervous right now."

"Why so nervous, monsieur? It's clear he's ready for the performance." he replied with an innocent stare.

"Not really. He got drunk a little too early." Michel whispered in dismay. Erik saw the hanging empty bottle from the man's hand. His eyes looked sleepy and his mustache was stained with liquid remnants. Erik could only chuckle forcefully. "I'm sure he can do the job." Michel only sighed, slightly believing his colleague. 

"Enough of the business for now. Erik, please dance with me." Elena interrupted the chatting between the men and pulled Erik out to the ballroom once again. Julien was in duty to play the violin along with the string orchestra. Maybe playing without would not be so bad if he were to be dancing with a stunning lady. The couples faced opposite each other in formation, waiting for the music to play within their ears. 

As the melody came in, their feet began to step and stride in harmony. Erik reached for her waist while his other hand held with hers. Elena grabbed his strong shoulder and held on his hand. Together, they followed the form of cotillion precisely. This was much a simple dance for Erik but the thought of having partner still overwhelmed him. He was glad Elena chose him tonight. This was nothing but amazing to experience. 

"Oh, such grace, Monsieur Erik. I did not know you were so good at dancing." she complimented sincerely, which made Erik flush in shyness.

"I had practiced for this. Although, being able to dance with you is much better." he replied back, now with a genuine smile Elena had not seen from him before. This was a night to remember, indeed. They continued dancing in silence around the room, with their minds occupied with each other's scents, small touches and humming. God, she began to love him more. She stared at the golden mask on the right side of his face. It seemed to always fit on his face, as though it was a huge part of his life. His way of identity and intimidation. She looked at him with no barriers between them. No mask, no make up and no morals. They both wanted this. To be free with each other for just tonight.

The clapping began to ring within their eyes and they abruptly stopped moving. Erik bowed in front of her and kissed her knuckles softly. Both of them clapped along with the crowd. Elena could not seem to move on and once again tried to gain courage to invite Erik again for another dance but Michel called them both back to the stage. She slightly huffed but she followed him back.

"Erik! Good Lord, I need your help! Our lead singer just fainted a while ago. He's really drunk! Oh, dear! What am I going to do?" Michel complained with a sweaty forehead and Erik was doing his best to calm him down. Erik looked out from behind him, seeing the drunk singer sleeping on the floor. He led out an exasperated sigh.

"Monsieur. There are no guest singers here. I'm sorry." Julien said from behind them with a gloomy face. Michel stood there like he would crash anytime. He had never seen him so nervous like this. 

"Monsieur Bolligny paid us a great deal for the music and playing. We have to find someone before they find out we botched their event." He patted his head with a cloth to dry himself. Erik thought of an idea but he was somewhat, nervous and hesitant as well. He wanted to help Monsieur Michel with all he could but it had to be safe for him, not to accidentally expose his identity. Just one, small mistake and this would be a waste. His dancing with Elena and his newly found friendship with the Monsieurs. They were all hard to come by. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to be accepted easily without recoil. 

But he had thought of a plan. _Do now and die later._

"Monsieur. I may have a solution to this problem." he muttered with a slight stutter. All eyes stared at him with sparkles, waiting for his saving grace.

"What is it, Erik? Please do tell and this would all be alright for all of us." Michel nervously smiled at him, as though his velvet voice would calm him down.

"I-I will sing for them." Erik blurted the words with a dark, assuring voice. As though their spirits had been lifted away from their bodies, Elena and Michel widened their eyes and took hold of Erik's shivering arms.

"Are you sure, Erik? Can you sing?" Elena confidently asked him. The man only nodded with a faint smile and rubbed her hands comfortingly. 

"Oh, Erik. If you say so that you can. I will not, indeed, stop you. In fact, you had saved us right now." Michel finally sighed deeply and embraced Erik gratefully, which made the nervous man tremble with the sudden touch. It was, no way, comforting for him enough.

"Erik, it's okay. Don't be nervous. We're here to watch over you." Elena embraced him gently, which was opposite with Michel's and she kissed his unmarred cheek. She had lessened his anxiety. He would be fine.

Voices from the stage began to pass by within Erik's ears and he could only fidget his fingers frantically while waiting for his name to be presented. Memories began to wash back into his mind. _Don Juan Triumphant._ He was Don Juan all over again. He would sing for the world, his voice would be heard and men and women would cry all over again. Her hands over his. Her gaze away from his. He was pulling her near him, confessing his love for her until she would pull the mask-

"Monsieur Erik. It is time." Julien nudged him to wake. The boy felt the intense gaze from him and he only moved away slowly from him. Erik noticed his discomfort and apologized. "Thank you, Monsieur Julien." The boy immediately returned to his mood. He smiled and nodded him luck.

Light shone and he squinted his eyes away from the brightness. He looked upon the still crowd, sitting on their respected seats waiting for him to sing. He gasped faintly and he sought the eyes of a familiar friend. He found dark eyes in the corner to his left side. Elena smiled with her white pearls shining upon the light. This was it. It was time. _Do or die, Erik. There are a thousand towns to live in next, anyway._

His mouth opened for the first verse, with the people's breathing snapping shut. _**"Far as we could be, I always see your face. I always see your name. All my thoughts reach for you, A million miles away. As time and distance pull us be sure of this."**_ He closed his eyes and relished his mind with sudden memories.

His soft and jovial voice boomed around the walls of the room and her breath hitched from her lungs. Her soul rose along with his first chorus. _**"I can feel the wind change, I can tell when something's not right. Our love is one thing that keeps us, we will be alright. In some other world you think you lost me. You need to know, I'm coming home."**_ She silently wept at the corner, savoring the sweet, lonely voice of the man she loved. His song, for she wished it was for her. But clearly, it was not. They barely know each other and she had not known him much. But she prayed, that one day, he would not be frightened at her. That he would accept her as part of his life. She felt her heart crack piece by piece. _Please, please be different. Be you._

 _ **"Lost, if you feel lost, you know where to find me. Here, I'll be here listening for your voice though time and distance pull us, be sure of this."** _He thought of Christine. His precious Christine, singing within the walls of the small chapel, looking for him. While she sang beautifully, he was behind the barrier of her existence, listening heartily, tears falling to his cheeks. He longed for her back. But why now? When she was now happy and with a family? What would it be for him now? His thought of seeing Christine smiling had kept him alive tonight.

 _ **"Oh I can feel the wind change, I can tell when something's not right. Our love is the one thing that keeps us, we will be all right. In some other world you think you've lost me. You need to know, I'm coming home."**_ He found the same dark eyes at the corner, but he was surprised when he found them red and wet. She was weeping for him. She smiled at him assuringly, as though she wanted to tell him that she was fine. But he knew more than that, both of them were not alright. Not when they were losing. 

Elena heard a faint sniff from the nearest table and found several women already wiping the tears from their eyes. She chuckled at the sight. His voice was enough to make a person cry, indeed. But while she was weeping too, she continued smiling at him. She was happy for him. 

Erik breathed a final sigh as he sang the last verse of his song, _**"Oh I can feel the wind change, I can tell when something's not right. Our love is the one thing that keeps us, we will be all right. In some other world you think you've lost me. You need to know, I'm coming home..."**_

Endless claps and whistles rang around his ears, he saw men and women cry beneath their facades. He saw Monsieur Michel and the orchestra clapping in delight for him. "Bravo! Bravissima!" The loud praises he had ever heard in his life for the first time overwhelmed him, almost feeling his legs weaken. He continued scouting the numerous faces satisfied with his performance. But he only craved for one person in the room. He looked at her with the feeling of victory within his heart. While the people had cried for his song, she was the only one who smiled for him.

He was able to fake everything. His life, his name and his music. All of them were just a matter of convenience. Nothing more.

"Now that was quite a game changer." she said while they slowly walked on the road towards home. He chuckled under his breath and rubbed her knuckles on his arm. "Why do you say so?"

"That somehow, I had caught a fact from you. Tell me." she asked with a glint from her eyes. He furrowed his brows in question. "Tell you what?"

"Who is the lucky maiden who had changed the wind?" he flinched at her question. Elena immediately regretted asking him, realizing scars might reopen once again. She was curious, as though she wanted to hate the woman in his heart. But she knew she could not. His gaze lowered and she tightened her hold on to his.

"S-She, hm, she was a woman from my past." he simply replied, continued rubbing her cold knuckles. She hitched a breath. She was finally able to confirm that he had another person in his life, other than her. And she felt a slight pang of jealousy.

"May I ask where she is now?"

"She was... I mean, she was finally happy with her life without me. It is enough." he smiled absently. It was her turn to furrow her brows in dismay. He was smiling for her. _Damn it._

"Did you feel sad about it? That is why you sang the song?"

"Yes. I am. Everyday, she would be just a glimpse of my fantasy. A lonely memory and a form of courage to live."

"Then try." she said as she let go of his arm and faced him with determination. 

He tilted his head innocently. "Try what?"

"To live." she whispered and slowly removed the hat from his head. Cold air brushed over their skin and they both shivered. She walked near him, their distance nearing. 

If Erik needed to change, he would have to let go of her. If he needed to live, he had to bury the dead of his life. If he needed to be happy, he would have to embrace another life. It would mean kissing the woman in front of him back, relishing her scent and appreciating her beauty. He kissed her back with passion and comfort.

His lips felt good with hers. This would be the greatest memory she had ever experienced. The love, the respect and the sincerity of this man holding her fragile body steady. For a woman who had never known what true love meant like, it was magical.

Her lips felt good with his. This would be the only memory he had of freedom and acceptance. The willingness, the sweetness and the sincerity of this woman holding on to him for dear life. For a man who had never known what true love meant like, it was painful.

Because no matter how he wanted to live from the past, he knew he could never love her the same way he loved Christine Daae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Ramin Karimloo's Coming Home and imagine it a little bit as a 19th century song. 
> 
> So... Characters didn't have to be strong always. Christine Daae was pretty, nice and independent. Well, atleast after POTO. But she had what we call, autophobia. This was actually my analysis on her character. According to my thing, she was always being loved or taken care of by some people important to her and that includes, the Phantom! She was naive, to the point she was willing to be pulled by a guy living in the sewer just because she was made to believe he was the angel of music, etc. But when she was alone, there was Raoul and then Meg and then some others. It was always someone was there or none. And I think the phobia started when her Papa died, thinking she was now "alone".
> 
> Another thing was Wishing you were somehow here again! Could we just have a simple moment for her, just her? Until Wandering child came like come on! Try to leave her alone, just once! Also, you do realized she was easily edgy or scared, I mean it's normal, true. But she had this fear of being followed and all she wanted was to hold on someone else like "hey come on, let's sing and prove to me that you'll be here" whether it be a stranger or some acquaintance from long ago.
> 
> This is actually what I wanted to "put" in Christine's character but since this is a fic, it's only based on my imagination and not some basis I got from something. So yeah, let me know some opinions too and feel free to comment anytime here. Thanks for reading my shameless fic, lol!


	17. The Opera Ghost is Dead!

**The Opera Ghost is Dead!**

**╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗**

****

**╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝**

**AUGUST 2 1882 PARIS, FRANCE**

It had been barely five months since the day they had heard she was with child. Her stomach began to bloat bigger and her cravings became stronger. She was mostly emotional, sobbing randomly in the middle of the night. Christine would mostly spend her days reading and walking around to exercise her blood flow. She would also be served a different dish every lunch and dinner, and it would be mostly full of greens and peas. She had also requested for dairy and sweets, which made Raoul quite dismayed. She was getting fat. And she did not like it.

Raoul, being a patient husband, he was becoming more overprotective of her and as strange as it was, he went home after Italy with a dark glare in his eyes. They almost did not talk for a single day and he only gave in when the night came. She only shrugged it away, thinking maybe it was some business matter that bothered him. But now, he was back, like a hint of sunlight.

Christine remained crocheting inside the music room, humming softly until Raoul abruptly went it which made her jolt from her seat. "Why, slow down, Raoul. What's wrong?"

"I just read the morning paper, my love. It was good and bad." he solemnly remarked, kneeling in front of her. She squinted her eyes in question. "What is it?"

"I... If I ever tell you, not because I was happy about it. But because I do not want to lie and keep this from you. I know that he played a big part in your life and I think-"

"Raoul. Please tell me." her face switched into frustration and anxiety, as though the words that he would blurt out would be venomous.

"The surete had stopped the search for the Phantom of the Opera. He was now declared dead by the authorities just last night." Raoul bit his tongue when he saw Christine gasp and covered her mouth from screaming. He unfolded the paper and showed to her the texts. "A body was found beneath the sewers of the opera house. He was already decomposed due to moist and mud. They cannot truly determine the identity."

Christine began to worry. Raoul was confused. "As I said, he may be once a memory in your life, but we can't forget that he almost killed us both. Threatened us when we cannot give him what he wants and demanded for your-"

"Please stop, Raoul! Just... stop." her eyes began to tear up, her emotions rapidly flowing in her heart. She was worried that he might be the man found by the police but she also believed that it was not him. On top of all, she was worried for his safety. And she did not like how Raoul just acknowledged the fact that her teacher was dead. "Don't ever speak like that about him, please. I did not want him dead, I did not want him gone! I want him safe! I want him free! I want him innocent!" she snapped mournfully at him.

Raoul was shocked with how she had reacted. She looked so distraught, clutching the bind of her book tightly and barely holding herself from fainting. But he moved towards her and caught her trembling shoulders, "I'm sorry, Christine."

"I left him there. I left him to die. And I cannot bear that guilt, that was why I came back. I had to make sure he would understand what I want him to do. He may not be an innocent man, but he was still... him." she spoke between small gasps while grasping Raoul's forearm. He nodded at her in understanding.

Raoul realized that he wanted to understand. He wanted to know about the mysterious man with a monster's face. A man, as angry as the devil, with soft eyes as innocent as an angel. A man that was still a question to him. He needed to know how he became such a big part in Christine's life aside from being her singing tutor. If he wanted to understand his wife, he must know. _Learn the truth, for the good of France._ A deep voice from his mind rang within his ears. His gaze started to darken. A strange feeling within his veins. _A sacrifice for everyone._

"Tell me." he whispered near her ear. Christine averted her gaze to him, confused. 

"What?"

"Tell me about the Phantom. I need to understand." he replied. She furrowed her brows when she noticed his blue eyes darkened like the deep ocean. She was slightly frightened. Raoul seemed to notice her discomfort as he decided to sit with her comfortably and rubbed small circles on her back. "It's alright. Don't hesitate to tell me, I will understand."

Christine stared at the cold hands on her lap and began to think how she would tell her story to Raoul. She was scared that he might overreact or even recoil in horror from her. But she knew Raoul, he was not that man. He was good and he was kind. Of course, he would understand. "Raoul. My story wasn't lovely as the other girls. So I will understand if you ever feel ashamed of marrying me after this." Before she could add more explanation to her cause, he only broke the distance between them and kissed her lips lovingly. He made sure that his message would be felt, _I love you and I will accept everything of who you are._ They both parted from each other and she held on to his hand on her lap.

There, she inhaled a deep sigh and sang her first words, _**"Father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he'd appear. I was a child, when a voice from above, sang me to wipe my tears."**_ She caressed his strong jaw and smiled at him affectionately, _ **"A little girl, barely living for ten years. Called for her only guardian from the heavens. The Lord sent me him instead."**_

"Is he-" he replied but was interrupted with her singing, _**"A beautiful voice passed by within my ears. Oh dear Lord, is this a dream?"**_

 _ **"I had lost my music, but he blessed me with a new voice. He promised me that I would be happy, and that we are one and the same."**_ She stood from her seat and slowly paced around the music room, fidgeting her fingers. Raoul watched her move gracefully. 

_**"My voice, his voice. Dancing through the halls of our world. His love, seeping through his words and my passion, blooming from the lips."** _

_**"He was my angel, my father, my friend, my salvation and my downfall."**_ She faced him with a weeping smile. She looked so alluring, even with her sadness and mournfulness. Raoul felt the urge to reach upon her and embrace her until she stops crying forever. But he remained his place for a little while. _**"For ten, magical years, he was mine until he was not. I became a woman and he became a man."**_

 _ **"I sang for him, my first aria. An aria for the teacher I had and never had. A song for the man I loved and never loved. An end of our beginning and a beginning to our end."**_ She whimpered faintly within her throat, which made Raoul quickly caught hold of her arms and supported her heavy weight.

_**"Now the song is over. There is nothing to be done. There are no angels in this world. Only a man and a woman, never to be same again. Forgive me, Raoul. For I had kept this from you."** _

"Nothing to fear, my love. I hear you and I am here for you." he whispered as he softly kissed her forehead. _**"Now hearing him gone, it was as though I was dead with him. It was as if I was still there that night and I killed him myself."**_

_**"I am a woman, in love with a fantasy..."** _

_**"If I had only known then..."** _Raoul began to respond to song, staring at her shiny, green eyes.

_**"Oh, Raoul. If I had only known then..."** _

_**"There is so much to know and forget..."** _

_**"We must learn to forgive and forget..."** _

_**"I will, we will. This is now only the past and we must wake up and live..."**_ As their final crescendo had ended together, Raoul embraced her and comforted her as she sobbed weakly against his chest. Raoul had realized something. Something that he may not bear to carry for the rest of his life. Christine loved the Phantom, in her own way. The Phantom was her friend, her companion and the other half of her soul. Raoul was her shining light, her dream, and her partner. He could not hate her for such love. It was nothing but genuine, innocent and strong. And the way she had protected his little dignity, he knew he had no say.

The man who had almost strangled him to death, who had begged for her love and affection and the man who he once hated truly, had not haunted their lives with eternal madness and resentment but to ask for peace and acceptance. Christine had given the man her acceptance and Raoul... had given him peace. There was no enemy, only a lost friend. There was no monster, only an unfortunate soul. 

He would forgive him. He could, also, forget. For Christine, he would stop himself from cursing his name. For his wife, he would look past the wrongness of his being. For himself, he would move on. 

"I hated him, Christine. I know it was reasonable for me, but I had finally understood who he was in you. Yes, we cannot move past the murders and the big mess but a man can do things, such as myself. I will forgive him, only to forget. I will forget, for me to love you fully. If there is still hate within me, then how am I different from a monster?" Raoul cupped her cheeks and put his forehead on hers.

"I love you, Christine. I promised you that I will be your light. And now, I will move past my resentment and love you with all I can. My soul, my body, my riches, everything is yours. Teach me to forgive, Little Lotte. So that we could be free." He added, with an assuring smile. Christine laughed between her sobs and kissed the man, willingly giving himself fully to her. Shredding off the anger and hate from his heart. Naked and good as he could. She could only love him back more. 

"I love you, Raoul. You had done what you can for me. And I am eternally grateful. Grateful for accepting my past, my life. Grateful for giving peace for this poor man. Grateful for being here for me."

"I am the luckiest man in the whole world."

"Indeed, you are." she laughed and proceeded to kiss him deeply. Together, they had forgiven and forgotten the man behind the mask. The man of the opera. Don Juan. Her angel of music.

Raoul stared at the view through the open window, embracing the woman in his arms. His eyes slowly began to return to its darkness when the little voice a while ago, whispered through his ears. He hated it. He was angry with it. He silently prayed to God for a second chance to change the course of nature. What had he done to deserve this punishment? He took hold of her more, tightly. He loved this woman. But was he willing to sacrifice?

_For the peace of France, I stand here, with my blood, for my motherland._

In a space, opposite the small, music room. The Comte De Chagny was folding away the morning newspaper with a smile on his face. He took his red, lotus pin from the edge of his coat and tucked it in his breast pocket, " _ **T**_ _ **he face of war has finally begun."**_

"Raoul!" the Vicomte heard a small whimper beside him and Christine grabbed hold of her stomach as she laid on the bed like a ball. He immediately sat on the edge and grabbed her hand, "Christine, what's wrong?" he asked, worringly.

"My stomach.. It hurts!" she yelled in pain. But it was still early. It had not been barely the month of her labor. But Raoul caressed the bump of her stomach and soothed her softly.

"It was one of your cramps. Was it much painful than before?"

"Yes! It always was!" she replied, which had initiated Raoul to quickly change properly and ran to their nearest steward, "Fetch the doctor, now!" He did not care whether it was too late for one.

"Perinne! Fetch me a bowl with warm water and a towel." He approached his wife's maid, from reading on her chair. The manor suddenly became a little noisy. With two servants running around the hall. Philippe was jolted awake with the sound of small footsteps outside his room.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he whispered to himself. He opened the door and scanned the hall sleepily. He noticed Raoul grabbing a bowl from a maid's hands and went inside their bedroom. The health of the newborn, suddenly alarmed him. He quickly wore his nightshirt and approached the master bedroom on his left.

"Raoul! What is this commotion about?" he asked his brother, who was wiping the sweat from his wife's forehead.

"Forgive me, Philippe. She had a horrible cramp, much more painful than the last ones." his brother replied, with a worried look on his face. Philippe looked at Christine in a sympathizing way, which was the first time Christine had saw from him. He suddenly grabbed Raoul's shoulder, "What do you want me to do?"

"Brother, wait for the doctor, please. She needs me here." As he had replied to his inquiry, the Comte walked out from the room to expect their physician at the front door. He began to worry. _This is not the end,_ he thought. Not after what he had discovered with Raoul at Italy. The mission needed to be pursued.

The call of the doctor snapped him out of his trance and he hurriedly escorted him upstairs. When they had both came in, they were welcomed by Raoul's exasperated face. The doctor immediately asked them out to give her some privacy. Philippe watched Raoul pacing around the hall, worrying like an old woman. "The child will live." he sternly said, out of the blue.

"This is not a game, Philippe! Whatever we had heard from Italy, it was only a myth! They had been dead for a hundred years!" Raoul shouted at him, forgetting the tone of his voice. But Philippe only stood still, flat faced. 

"Are you sure? I was close, Raoul! If only your precious ballet rat and your stupid feelings had not stood my way, I would have got him!" He sneered, which made Raoul stand in front of him, leveling his eyes.

"Then figure it out, brother! It's not my concern anymore."

"Ho, why. After you had sworn with your blood, that you will do your duty? Don't ever forget that lives are at stake!"

"Let's stop this talk, Philippe. I don't need you blocking my thoughts now. I don't want to argue with you and I don't want to speak against you with horrible words." Raoul led out a sigh of surrender and turned his back away from him. His brother was not in command now, if it would concern his family. 

"You had changed so much, little brother." he remarked with a mix of pride and disappointment.

"I did. I had to."

The door opened and the doctor talked to the both of them. Philippe willingly listened to her conditions and he remarked that the reason of her painful cramps was her frequent stress. He had also mentioned her struggle of being left alone. According to his analysis these past few weeks, he had observed and noticed Christine's phobia. Raoul pinched his temple in dismay and almost felt like crying for his wife and beg for her forgiveness. 

But luckily, the baby's hold was strong, much to Philippe's relief. When the doctor had finished his consultation, he asked Philippe to guide him out and Raoul was left alone upstairs, tending to his wife.

"Doctor, a moment, please." He whispered to the physician as he opened the door hesitantly.

"The child, was it healthy enough?" he asked, with a solemn stare which made the doctor slightly shudder in fear.

"W-What do you mean, Monsieur Le Comte?"

"No sign of weakness, or slight problems?"

"We cannot determine that yet, Monsieur. Once the child will be born, that is when we can know." As the doctor replied, Philippe only nodded in understanding. The Comte slowly approached him nearer and whispered something near his ear.

"Once my brother tried to hide something from me, please do not hesitate to tell me the truth."

"B-But Monsieur-"

"Any truth you would hide from me, The blood of France would be on your hands." He sternly replied as he opened the door widely for the doctor to go. The doctor nodded nervously and frighteningly ran out of the manor. Philippe looked out from the door for a moment before he went back in.

Philippe hated being intimidating. This was not his nature. He was playful and gentle when he was just Raoul's age. But this duty had done him a very, big deal. He was changed, he was scared and he was determined. _The game of chess has finally moved its first piece._ His father had said to him, once. With the deteriorating health of the older Comte, Philippe's power grows stronger and one day, he would be free enough to do whatever he wanted.

He sneaked a glance at his brother's bedroom. He was now soothing Christine on the bed, telling her that she would be alright. _She better be._ He started walking back to his room until he caught sight of his father standing in the middle of the hallway. "Father, you're awake."

"Is Raoul and his wife alright?" the old man asked frailly.

"Yes, Father. We were awoken by a cramp."

"Yes. It was normal, they say. Take good care of your brother, Philippe. Do not let him do something stupid."

"Yes, Father." he replied as he escorted his father back to his room.

Damn it, why did it have to be him? He may be the oldest but he was a man, still. And he knew Raoul would not bear the duty too. This was too much for all of them. But Philippe De Chagny was a proud man. He would not let anyone stand in his way and see his mistakes. May it be Raoul or Christine Daae. May it be his father.

Christine woke up with a searing headache and roamed her gaze around their bedroom. She slowly rose from the bed, trying not to wake Raoul up. She felt bad for him. He had not slept until he had made sure she was fine. She looked at herself through the vanity mirror and she sighed to her own sight. She had never felt pain like this before. Her fingers began to fidget in distress. She needed something to cling on. 

She walked towards the music room and saw the sun rising beautifully from the windows. She locked the door, making sure no one would come in uninvited. She weakly sat on the divan and pulled the drawer next to her left. She clutched at the monthly letters she had received from Erik. She absently scanned his handwriting before she set them all aside on the desk. Back in the drawer, she saw the sparkling, little thing.

She touched the cold metal of Erik's ring. What intrigued her was the intimidating rock on the metal. It did not seem like a normal onyx. It was more of something what was inside. She wanted to dissect it but breaking it would not be a good idea. She knew she did not have the right to wear this ring again. But Erik had willingly gave it to her, as a sign of their change. He would take it back from her soon and in exchange of it, was either his new or broken heart. Christine reached for the steel string from one of the drawers and inserted it on the round jewelry, as a makeshift necklace. This would do it, for now.

* * *

**MAY 15 1882 PROVINS, FRANCE**

"Yes, Marius. I will let you eat some of that steak." Erik said jokingly, pinching the boy's little, pointy nose. Marius giggled and jumped in joy.

"Good Lord, I would really love to taste Michel's bestseller once again." Charles remarked as he reached for his coat on the door rod. Erik smiled happily at them. He decided to bring them both to work to get some fresh air. He willingly offered them his treat and the father and son could only do but _Oh, if it's from yours then, we're in!_

Charles seemed to notice the sudden change of his mood. Erik became a little jovial after the night ball and day by day, he became more ecstatic and talky. He mentioned his newest 'beau' a day after and Charles only laughed at him and said, _I told you so._

But Erik was still doubtful, truly. But he became much more of a casual citizen than a brooding man with a black cloak. People did not seem to mind him or his mask that much. His everyday company in the restaurant had made sure he belonged with them. Michel was an overprotective father to them, unwilling to give them up or even let them to be teased upon by Maxime or any of cruel men out there. If anything, Erik was, strongly, grateful.

Then there was Elena, his newest friend from town. She was different from the other women he had met, even from Christine. She was free spirited and unashamed on what she was doing. She was passionate and sweet. All things that would have melted Erik into a puddle of mud on her feet. But she was approachable to him, with no doubts nor hesitance. Maybe one day, he would trust her enough. He knew he was still in progress. He must keep his distance for now.

"Talk and don't stop, Erik! The more quiet and shy you are, the people would notice." Charles remarked as they walked side by side towards the night town. Also, Charles Leroy reminded him of the Daroga. Nadir was as much as his conscience and Charles was a positive light in his life. He and his little boy, who was slowly growing and becoming mature, had completely overpowered his cold heart. Thank the heavens they had discovered his cabin that night.

"Really? To tell you the truth, I was becoming more of myself when I was quite younger. I had a friend back then, he was my first, true friend." he remembered Nadir. The quirky, slightly serious Daroga of Persia. A man of his thirties that time, with a red karakul on his head, black beard almost covering half of his face, with brown eyes same as him and bushy brows that would always furrow under the heat of the sun. He would often see him stand with one hand on the hip and the other loose on the side. In Persian culture, his stature was dignified and handsomely intimidating. And Erik would sometimes envy him for his 'good' looks. 

"He is a foreigner, A persian, specifically. He was like the angel on my shoulder. Quite an annoying man, but he was... good." he lowered his gaze.

"Oh? Tell me about him." Charles smiled, looking forward to the road.

"He was currently residing in Paris. He retired quite a little early and managed to communicate again with me before Provins. He was my companion in Persia when I was working as a... magician and architect for the shah."

"Oh! You hear that, Marius? Erik was a magician? Architect, too? The man had so many talents, I can't even comprehend." Charles said, ruining Marius' swept back hair. The boy only huffed in annoyance when Erik chuckled at him.

"My passion was music, but I tried exploring different skills and I managed to have used them before. But mostly, it was short lived." His face gloomed.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Monsieur. You still have a few years ahead of you. There is more time for such activities to spend to. As for now, being a pianist is not so bad."

"Indeed, I actually liked the job. Simple and free."

"Now come on and call Michel and serve us some steak!" Charles laughed in delight, pulling Erik and his son towards the noisy, joyful sound of voices from the restaurant.

"Pardon me, Monsieur. I was quite late." Erik patted his employer's shoulder while he disregarded his cloak and hat on the rod. Michel faced him and immediately, the old man's face brightened. "Well, here's our magnificent tenor! It's alright, since you brought our dear friends here! Charlie!"

Michel made way to the crowd to welcome the Leroys sitting on the middle table. Erik continued fixing himself and went out from the locker room to play for tonight. 

While he was killing time playing the pianoforte, he noticed Julien fidgeting his fingers on his sleeves and his forehead was sweating in anxiety. Erik stopped playing for a moment and asked the violinist resting beside him. "Is something wrong, young man?" he asked gently.

Julien looked up at him and hesitated to speak for a moment, "Strange. Elena should have been here thirty minutes ago to pick up her dinner." He replied with a hesitating glance. Erik had already noticed for a long time that his violinist took a liking at Elena. The young man seemed to be a kind and honorable man, working diligently for his future. But Erik was trusted to be her friend, after all the things that had happened after the ball. He had to be sure she would belong to the right man, to save her.

"Do you want to check up on her tonight at her place? I can vouch for your place." Erik suggested but the boy only shook his head nervously.

"N-No, Monsieur Erik. I must be overreacting. But still..."

"Or do you want me to check up on her?" Erik raised a brow. Julien thought of it. Erik was the closest to her and Elena seemed to trust the masked man. And Monsieur Erik would only make sure she was alright, for now.

"If it would not trouble you, Monsieur." he only replied with a shy smile. Erik only chuckled and patted his shoulder. He asked him to vouch for his place for a moment until he would return.

Erik ordered the same menu Elena would often order for her dinner. He formed a faint smile absently. He did not mind going out for a moment for her. In fact, he wanted to return the favor of visiting her after the unexpected charade she had done a few days ago. Here he was, carrying a food bag, with the past memories of her lips in his mind.

He walked and instantly stared at the front door of the brothel where she worked. A couple of women flocked around the porch and slowly approached him. "Want to experience the best night of your life, Monsieur?" a woman purred near his shoulder and Erik only tongue clicked. He faked a smile and stared at the women flirting at him, not knowing what was under his mask. "Pardon me, ladies. But I had another woman in mind."

"Who might that be, Monsieur?" another woman asked. 

"Miss Elena Van Harriette. Is she here?" he asked excitingly. The women suddenly averted their gazes, ignoring him and his inquiry. Erik furrowed his brows confusingly. 

"She's currently occupied, sir." a lady finally answered after a few moments of silence. Erik felt his blood slowly boil. He moved away from the girls and quickly walked towards the door until a woman with dark hair and eyes opened the door and went out just in time before he could. Except that the woman had bruises on the corner of her lip and a scratch wound on her brow. The woman he was looking for, standing in front of him with tears he did not want to see. 

"Erik?"

"Miss Elena? What happened?" he asked, quite angrily which shuddered Elena and sent her backwards. A loud noise of an opening door startled the both of them and an old, grumpy man went out while buckling his black belt. Erik trembled in anger. He had figured it out.

"Well, hello there, Monsieur Erik Daae. Like what I just did?" Maxime wiggled his waist, mocking the man in front of him. It was as if Erik's sanity was fading once again.

"What have you done with her?" he somberly asked him even though it was now obvious. He faintly heard Elena sniffing behind him.

"It is quite obvious now. She did her job and I did mine. Although she was quite impolite so a customer must do whatever it takes to get what he had paid." the man laughed devilishly afterwards which made his hand clench into a fist.

"Whatever you like it or not, she is a whore and she does not deserve any respect or any wish to bed someone she chooses. Stick that into your mind, Monsieur!" Before Maxime could even point a finger at him, Erik had already hit a weak part of his face, which sent him bleeding on the ground. His nose was broken and he yelped in pain. Elena's shriek had blend in with the sudden noises. Immediately, a small crowd began to form in front of the establishment.

Erik was in a brink of rage. Tonight, he was the Phantom of the Opera. His soft, brown eyes slowly darkened in terror, His unmarred cheek reddened, and his fist clenched as though his nails had scraped the flesh of his palm. He hated being angry. He hated being back in that dark place. He hated being unable to protect the people he only cared, for once of his life. And he hated meeting men with masks on their dignified faces.

This man was just a small example of it. He instinctively reached for his waist pocket, feeling the burning fibre of the catgut string. How much he wanted to use it right now, hearing the old man's muffling sounds, begging for his mercy. It sounded so... horrifying.

His fist was ready to hit another one until a hand on his chest stopped his trance. Elena's cheeks was filled with wet tears when she tried to stop Erik from fighting back again. She did not want to let this continue. She hated seeing the love of her life slip from his sanity. The once, kind man with soft eyes had now transformed into someone else. And she did not like one bit of it. "Please, Erik. Don't do this. Don't do this for me." She fought back her whimpers when she embraced him tightly, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. He was really furious.

She did not want to let him see her like this. Vulnerable and dirty. She loved him therefore she did not want to be ugly in front of him. She knew she did not deserve Erik for being like this. A whore. Nothing more. She might be a sweet, friendly girl walking around the town, but every eye in this place looked at hers as though she was naked. She hated being this. "Please don't. Please go and don't hurt yourself more. I'm am of no importance, Erik. Please don't." 

Erik led out small gasps to calm himself and realize what he had done. He must have looked like a beast tonight. The lady was weeping on his chest and he could only do was stand there and look at his victim. He lifted a hand slowly and rubbed Elena's back. "It's alright. I'm fine. We're fine." he whispered soothingly to her. She jolted from the soft, loving voice of the man. She gasped and encircled her arms around his neck to relish his comfort more.

"Erik! What happened?!" Mathis ran from the establishment with Tom by his side. He must have heard the commotion and wanted to check up on them. The man saw the bruised face of Elena and he immediately diverted his eyes at the slumped body of Maxime, still talking about his broken nose.

"Can someone help me out here?!" The grumpy man shouted, the people only shook in dismay. Mathis approached him and pulled up his collar. "You sack of dirt! What did you do to her?!"

Another woman came out and slapped the man's face, "You wanker! You just ruined my business tonight! Have I not forgotten to tell you that no one hurts my girls?!" Two of them pushed him away out of the crowd, doing all they could to hurt him back.

Tom approached Erik and the scared Elena, hiding her face on his coat. "Are you both alright, Monsieur Erik?" the young man asked, trying to rub her back but she flinched away at the sudden touch. 

"We're alright. Would you be so kind to tell Monsieur Michel that I will end my shift a bit early? I needed to tend to her. I will return for closing to take the Leroys home." he remarked to the boy and he smiled in return, running back to the restaurant. Mathis went back with Madame De Mourant with solemn faces. 

"You alright, mate?" the man asked, patting Erik's shoulder. He only nodded in reply and continued soothing the distressed woman in his arms. "Shit! That man is becoming more stupid than I thought. I'll tell this to Michel and he would be seething mad."

"I would like to stay with her tonight, Monsieur. I can't leave her unattended for now." Erik said to Mathis. The man only nodded and let go of his shoulder. 

"Alright. I'll see you later." The crowd began to disperse and Erik took time to look at her face but she kept on hiding herself down. "Tsk, stop hiding your face, Elena! It won't do no good." he cupped her cheeks and forced her to face him. He led out a defeating sigh as he caressed her bruised lip with his thumb and she sucked air through her clenched teeth. He mumbled an small apology as he let go of her face and held her wrist gently. The same time Madame De Mourant was going back to the brothel, Erik stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I need a few minutes of her time." he said, with his casual voice. The woman faced and stared at him from top to bottom. "What will you do with her, Monsieur?" 

"I just need her company tonight. I'll pay for her time." he reached the other waist pocket and brought out a few coins to pay for an hour. He sneered silently at the thought that he had to use money for a person's time. Greatly reminded him of his time with the gypsies. A just one in a lifetime experience, to see the boy with a devil's face. A few francs would suffice.

"Alright then. Elena, take him to the blue room." The big woman said before she went back inside, waiting for the both of them to come along. Erik looked behind at Elena, who was still holding his hand and standing there without flinching. 

"Come. We'll just talk." With a swift pull, Erik went inside and upstairs with her to their room. Elena went inside first without looking back at her cust-guest. She glanced back slowly to see Erik slowly closing the door and standing in front of it, letting in a few deep breaths. She shivered slightly in fear.

"DAMN IT!" he shouted through the door as he punched it once with his right fist. Elena quivered as she stepped backward from him. She had never felt this scared. He was scaring her. Erik turned around at her with parted lips and widened eyes. He palmed his sweaty forehead and stood there for a moment.

"Are you going to hurt me too, Monsieur?" her voice sent chills through his spine, as though she was preparing for her torment once again. He realized she was not herself. A mask to show for the people inside this room. A mask of fear and hopelessness.

"Do you not want me here?" Erik asked, clutching the door knob for support. Elena's eyes sparkled with plead, shaking her head rapidly. "N-No, Erik! I do want you here."

"Then stop looking at me like I am going to hurt you! You should have known from the start that I had no such goal to take advantage of you but here you are, just like the others!" he rose his voice with annoyance. There it was, the judgement in her eyes, burning him on the ground. Next, there should be screams.

"I-I'm sorry. It's just-It was a routine every night. I smile, I wait, I lay and they ask for more. Sometimes there would be pain and I am scared. Please don't shout at me, Erik." she sniffed and tried to stop her tears from flowing. 

"It was always like this. I help them and they look at my face and say "Go away! You disgust me!" I had enough! If you fear me, you should! Because that is my purpose, right? To bring fear to the innocents! What a magnificent title for a man like-"

"PLEASE STOP, ERIK! STOP HURTING YOURSELF LIKE THIS! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT!"

"THEN WHY AM I HERE, WOMAN?! TELL ME! ONE WORD FROM YOU AND YOU WILL HAVE ME AT YOUR FEET!"

"I love you!" she whimpered as her legs began to weaken and she knelt in despair. This was not what she wanted with him. She did not want to say it like this. "I know you did not like someone telling you that because you fear rejection. But I fear you too! I fear that you will judge me or worse, be like them. I had not known love until I met you because when I first saw your eyes, I had finally known. I'm so sorry, Erik. Please forgive me." she finally gave in and sobbed on the carpet floor. 

Erik gasped in shock. She loved him? She loved him. All those moments with her and he had not even realized it. He felt stupid. How could she love him? "You haven't even seen my face. How could you think that you love me?"

"Does it matter for a person with a beating heart? Does it matter for a woman like me? I would have been the luckiest slut in the world to sleep on bed with the man she loves. I know it was hopeless and it's ridiculous. Do my dreams matter at all?" she lifted her gaze at his looming figure at the door and she noticed his troubled face. He would reject her. Oh God, end me now.

He knelt weakly and opened his arms for her, offering her comfort and safety. She crawled to him and welcomed his presence on hers. She sobbed on his black cloak and held onto his arms tightly. Erik shuddered slightly with her touch but he eventually gave in and returned her embrace. He had known a touch could assure a person that she was safe. He did not like being touched, for all he knew that men had painfully touched him before. But this woman was an exception. He was not afraid of touching her. But he feared one. _Hers._

"I'm sorry, my dear. I'm so sorry." he whispered through her hair and she only nodded between tears. "I'm sorry too."

"Does it hurt?" he asked and she lifted her face near his, their noses almost touching. "A bit."

"I will get the kit. You stay here." he said as he gently laid her on the bed and went out for a moment.

She gasped at herself. She had finally confessed. She covered her mouth in shock. She had confessed to a man, so rudely. _What a great way to start, Elena!_ She tried to inhale a deep sigh as she blindly stared at the opposite wall of the room. What have I done?

Erik returned with a box and he sat next to her. The next thing Elena felt was the slight sting from her lips. "Ow!" Erik mumbled an apology as he continued applying ointment on her bruises. She stared at his face closely, finally noticing the small details of his unmarred cheek. His brows were bushy but were both curved perfectly, his soft, brown eyes shining through the light of the fireplace, his nose was not that pointy but the half of it was covered in his mask and the corner of his lips curved like the half moon. He was handsome. He was perfect in her eyes. But through the eyes of men, the mask was all they could see. 

_The woman he loved must have been a lucky person._

She realized that she did not care one bit of what was on the other side of his face. All she sensed that this man had a rough past, according to the words he just blurted out a while ago but she made an effort not to bring it back up again. If she wanted him to stay, this was enough.

"All done, Mademoiselle. Please ask your employer to give you a few days to rest. You had a bad night."

"Alright. Thank you, Erik. You had saved my life once again." she smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks gently.

"About... the..." he stuttered with his words. He huffed in frustration but he heard her chuckle.

"Yes, it's true. My feelings are true. If you did not like it, I will take them back if you wish."

"No, not at all. It was just... overwhelming. No one had told me that they loved me."

"Then, they must have been either stupid or blind."

"Then my mother was stupid?" he said but he flinched with his words. Suddenly wanting to take them back. She gasped on his shoulder. "B-But why?"

There was no turning back. "You see, Elena. My mother and I had a... complicated relationship. She did not like seeing what's underneath this mask and If I do, she would recoil in horror and hurt me."

"Well, is she dead? I hope she is!" Erik was expecting pity but his widened eyes meant a surprising result of her response.

"I-S-She had passed away a few years ago, unfortunately. I did not expect such words, Elena." he chuckled in surprise. Elena smirked at him.

"I'm not some angel, you know. I can say whatever I want."

"I see. It's all the past now and I am hoping we could forget all these disasters in our lives." He patted her head and smiled widely at her. He let her lay her head on his shoulder as he watched the fire flickering in the furnace. 

"I still can't believe your words. It was quite heavy for me to carry. Is it alright If we wait?" Erik asked him with begging eyes. Elena seemed to notice his slight discomfort and regret. But she did not mind anymore. The words had slipped out of her tongue and she would not want to ask for more. That was enough.

"Of course. This was fine." _I hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So weird going on with the De Chagny boys! So sorry for the fast pacing. 
> 
> Anyways! Our other girl has confessed! For me, it was not really impossible to love Erik (well, without pulling his mask off, of course.) I mean he's a guy and he's talented and shy and a gentleman. Except being hot tempered and a psychological maniac, true. But people tend to be scared of him because of the mask (it's weird and perfect) and his dark appearance. He managed to change from that when he went to Provins so for them it's fine, as long as he's still a 'serviceman' not some sewer guy haunting an opera house.
> 
> Oh, fun fact! I just watched Ramin from a docu show and he really reminded me of the Daroga! The beard and his skin color! So I applied the bearded Ramin as my description for Nadir. Then if you're thinking of Philippe, just imagine Hadley Fraser wearing eyeliner and a big blond mustache. I'm a lazy person to search for another figure to put basis on, lol!
> 
> Thanks for reading this chapter! Have a nice day!


	18. Win or Lose

**Win or Lose**

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**╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝**

**NOVEMBER 30 1882 PARIS, FRANCE**

Christine stared at herself through the mirror facing the side. This would be the last month before she would labor her child. She and Raoul would have to wait for a few days before they could finally bring him to the world. She noticed her cheeks and arms getting rounder and she chuckled at herself. Raoul must have noticed it too and she was quite ashamed. Before she could continue self loathing, Raoul went in the room and immediately smiled when he saw her pout from the mirror. "What's wrong, my love?"

"I'm getting fat, Raoul. And you did not even mentioned it to me once." she huffed softly and the man only chuckled.

"You might get mad at me and I am really scared when you get angry."

"Am I really getting too much emotional?" she asked as Raoul encircled his arms around her chest from behind. He kissed her softly on her brown curls.

"It's normal. I understand." he said soothingly. They both looked at each other through the reflection and they smiled in excitement. "I can't wait for our little angel to be born. I will teach him what I know, what I love and what I have." he promised her sincerely.

"You will become a good father, Raoul. I'm sure of it."

"So are you. A kind and loving mother. I would not ask for more." she giggled at his reply. She kissed him back through his lips.

Ever since his business trip at Italy, Raoul had gained the courage to reject any of Philippe's invitations for an another trip. He was unwilling to leave his wife alone in this big manor and after discovering her emotional condition, he could not bear of leaving her side for a long time again. His duty be damned, he was not born for it.

"If it's a boy, we'll name him Gustave. And if it's a girl, we'll name her Marguerite." she mentioned the names once again which made Raoul smile in delight. He had prayed that it would be a boy, for he could teach him how to fence and horse riding, just like how he was taught by his father and brother. But if ever Gustave wished to pursue music just like his mother, it would be fine with him. He had cherished the dream of two singing angels by his side. 

"I already see a cute, ball of sunshine running around the garden, with blond sand hair and blue eyes." 

"Really? I actually quite imagine the opposite. I prefer a curly little warrior with green eyes." they chuckled in unison. Just one month then all would be blissful. They remained there for a few moments, savoring each other's scents until one of the servants called Raoul from outside. "The partners are here. I'll be right back as quick as I can, Christine. I love you." he kissed her knuckles and went out from the room. Christine smiled at herself with affection. Deep inside, she was afraid. Most women in Paris did not survive their pregnancies and most said the process was painful. Christine silently prayed for guidance and strength for her and her baby.

A faint knock sounded from the door, and Philippe went inside with a casual smile on his face. Christine furrowed her brows in confusion. "I would like to apologize." he remarked with composure. Christine was nothing but surprised. The Comte walked near her, facing the opened window of the room. "I apologize for acting so rudely and abrasive to you. I would want to rekindle our relationship." he said, facing her from behind.

Christine cleared her throat and forcefully raised her chin. "There are no faults. I understand that you only wanted what is best for your brother and I promise you that I will do what I can to help him too."

"Yes, you should. You are his wife." he smiled which made Christine shiver in fear. There was a slight bitterness in his words. He faced her slowly and clasped his hands behind his back. 

"My brother, as I think, has changed so much since marrying you and I am proud of his progress. Although, it would be hard for him to keep up if ever he did not manage to secure a permanent role in this family."

"What do you mean?" she fidgeted her ring finger nervously. Philippe walked slowly, closing the distance between them.

"Raoul is a Vicomte, true. And it is important for any royal countrymen to take charge of the family legacy. Meaning, if Raoul would not conceive the family an heir, the De Chagny wealth would fall into the wrong hands. It may be impossible for me to marry, my! I'm not usually interested for a permanent situation. So it's up to the both of you."

"Such a big responsibility to give to your brother, have you no clemency?"

"Then he would be betraying France."

"What does France have to do with this? It's not up to you whether I choose to conceive an heir or not. It's no one's choice. My child would not be some sort of an object to be put on a pedestal and my husband would need not to force himself into a useless title by begging for a male heir and make women the inferior." Christine had finally raised her voice.

"You should have thought of the responsibilities of a Vicomte before marrying one, Miss Daae. You are not just marrying out of love. The sake of France would be on your shoulders now."

"Don't forget yourself, Monsieur Le Comte. I am the one with child and the child will not be touched, by men like you." They both stopped and remained staring at each other sternly. Christine did not understand. Why were titles so important to them? Their child would be a product of their love, not some sort of a toy to dress and play with. 

Philippe raised his chin, trying to intimidate the woman in front of him. "Tell that to my brother if the government throws him to the gutter, penniless, nameless and heirless." he said before he went out of the room, with a clenched jaw. Christine felt herself weakened and drained with such small talk. She sat on the divan, sobbing once again in dismay.

Poor Raoul and their child. The world demanded so much from them when they could not give all what they have, and their baby wasn't even born yet! If ever Raoul could not entitle another Vicomte after him, he would beg for scraps with her. He would be nameless through history and his children would bear their suffering. She finally realized why he would wish for a boy, he was almost prepared to give the responsibility. She cringed in anger, caressing her bloated stomach. 

She had thought that Philippe would reconcile, but his pride would not falter for her. His ego was too much to be set aside and such force to give to his little brother who was not even old enough for such work. They were both still young and strongly in love. She loved Raoul and she hoped he did the same.

A few hours sitting on the divan, silently and immobile, Raoul De Chagny was welcomed with gloom. He immediately sat beside her and grabbed her trembling hands. "What 's wrong, my love? Did you have one of those attacks again?"

She sat still, her eyes gazing forward and empty. "If I ever give you a female child, would it be disappointing to you?" Raoul widened his eyes in confusion.

"N-No, of course not, Christine. Why would you think such a thing?" he caressed her wet cheek. She sighed and spoke again.

"I don't want to burden you with my mistakes. I will make sure that I will conceive an heir so that you can secure your wealth. I will do my best to be a good wife to you and I will-"

"W-Wait, Christine. What's going on? Where did all of this come from?" He thought she was being strange and overemotional but this was not a usual issue to happen. He grabbed her shoulders gently and faced her. "Tell me, Christine. Who told you this nonsense?"

"Philippe came in here a while ago. He said he wanted to rekindle our relationship but he spoke to me of these things. These... responsibilities. I did not know being such a wife of a Vicomte would be too burdensome. Believe me, Raoul and I did not mean offense." As she had replied, Raoul felt his jaw and fist clench. Philippe was becoming too severe now and he would not let it stand by. He embraced her soothingly and rubbed small circles on her back.

"Whatever Philippe had said, don't believe it, hm? Wealth and title did not matter to me anymore when I met you, Christine. May it be a boy or girl, it doesn't matter. The baby will be loved, taken care of and provided, I promise you. No such burden would happen to the three of us." she sobbed loudly once more, apologizing to him for being so fearful. He only nodded and hummed a small melody near her ear. He would have to use music to console her. 

She began to calm down but she stayed in his arms, feeling his comfort against her. They both stayed like that for a few moments until Raoul was the first to pull away. He raked her hair gently and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. "I will have to speak to him about this. I will not let this continue."

"Don't argue too much, Raoul. I don't want to cause you both any resentment." she tried to apologize but Raoul cut her off.

"Don't worry, my dear. This would stop and everything would be just fine. I'm here now, I won't leave you." they both smiled at each other. He laid her head on his shoulder and waited for her to close her eyes.

When Raoul felt her breathing steady, he unhooked his arm on her shoulder and carried her down on the bed. As he covered her with the blanket and kissed her goodnight, he went out of the room and knocked loudly on Philippe's office. Before his brother could open for him, he already pushed the door angrily and went inside with a huff. "What the hell do you want, Philippe?!"

"Why, calm down, little bro-"

"I'm not little anymore, Philippe! I'm a man and a husband protecting his wife. You need not to bring such distraught upon her! It's our job, and it does not need to concern her!" he yelled with authority.

"It will be her mistake if she would bore the wrong child, Raoul! Have you forgotten what that stinky man had said?! An heir from our family would end this blooming rebellion! It was our job to make sure it would happen and if that woman of yours would not make it true, both of you would suffer!"

"As if I care what's going on with this job! Don't you forget that it was our father who slashed our palms to bleed so that we would be forever be slaves for this godforsaken country!" he pointed a finger to his brother which made Philippe sneer.

"And if men like us gone?! What would happen to us, eh? Your wife would be fucking rebels now and you would be on this floor, bleeding to death with an opened throat!" Before Philippe could react, a fist had been drawn through his cheek and he stumbled against his writing desk. Raoul was stunned of what he had done. Philippe wiped the blood from the corner of his lips.

"I'm sorry, brother." he immediately apologized as he pulled the handkerchief from his picket and gave it to him. The Comte received it willingly and wiped the stain carefully.

"I do not want to be killed, Raoul. I do not want any of our family hurt. Most of all, I do not want to see France burn." he whispered, feeling the sting from his newly bruised cheek.

"I know. But all of these wars and cruelty were too much to bear, Philippe. You know that. You know what Father had bestowed upon you. You will have to fight until you die." Raoul stated, slowly walking towards his brother and embracing him tightly.

"I'm sorry I'm being so cruel to the Vicomtess."

"She may not forgive you that easily now, Philippe. But I beg you, she doesn't have to know." he whispered as he let go of him.

"You have my word." Philippe assured with a smile. They sat on the desk as they stayed silent for moments. Raoul lifted his gaze to him and spoke.

"What news from the high council?" the Vicomte asked, solemnly.

"They manage to find the smuggled gunpowder and other weaponry under the Quartier Latin. It was hidden with traps, 8 of our squad died." he replied, sneering from the bruise sting. Raoul only palmed his face in distraught.

"I'm sorry, brother." Raoul whispered.

"Men die everyday, Raoul. I know that. But these men had to leave their families in order to what? To dig some sabotaged grave with full grams of barrel bombs? It was hard enough for me to tell on to their wives' faces that they were all killed in such a gruesome way!"

He added, "I did not mean to burden your wife such things but these... these bloodshed has been tearing me apart! I needed help! I needed counsel and God, I saw how my father had looked at me when I mentioned our travel in Italy! He did not like it one bit!"

"Do you think the man was true, not some fraud? It was easy enough to call him insane."

"No, most of them looked like one but I believe in their capabilities! Their words were venomous! Their visions were dangerous enough to determine! His friends were killed because of what they had heard from him!" he led out a hand to hold support from Raoul's shoulder. The young man only furrowed in confusion.

"What does it have to do with me and Christine? If he were so sure we would conceive an heir, what will happen next?"

"I don't know. But whatever happens, Raoul, you must be strong and careful. Our small choices would bring us either loss or victory." Philippe put his forehead against Raoul's and stared at his ocean, dark eyes. _**"We must give him to France."**_

Raoul came in her room, with a box behind him. She smiled at him when she noticed the widest smile he could ever make. "Merry Christmas, Raoul. But isn't it a little too early for gifts?" she stood from the vanity, holding her heavy stomach for support.

"Nothing's too early and late for my beautiful wife. Here." he led out the blue box from his hand and gave it to her. She giggled in delight and they both sat together to see what's inside. "What is it?" she asked.

"Open it, my love." he replied, pulling the white silk ribbon from the top. She slowly opened the lid and her eyes widened. "Oh, Raoul. This is so adorable!" she remarked as she raised the two baby mittens from the box. But what intrigued her was his resolution of them being both blue. But she did not speak of it. They wanted this month to be of pure bliss and surprises. 

"If it would be a girl then I will just replace it with another color." He said, chuckling awkwardly. She only shrugged it away. 

"It's fine. Blue is a good color." she clutched the mittens gently as she returned them into the box. She kissed Raoul gratefully and both of them listened to the busy noises of the city. Paris was so bright this month. The buildings were all covered with lights and all of the vehicles would hoist their horns. Christine laid her head on his shoulder as they both stood in front of the window of their bedroom. 

"It's so beautiful." she whispered. She looked out to the moving lights and silently thought of what the other person, she willfully missed at the other side of the country, was doing right now. _Erik._ She hoped Christmas would be merrier for him. She prayed his acquaintances would bring him to celebrate and she prayed he would find someone to spend the event with him. She briefly remembered how Christmas was to her and Erik in the opera house. She would light a candle for her father in the small chapel after sneaking out from the party upstairs. And then all of a sudden, a sweet, loving voice would sing her a jolly, Christmas song, **_Il est né le Divin Enfant, jouez haut-bois, résonez musettes, Il est né le Divin Enfant, Chantons tous son avènement._**

 ** _Ah! qu'il est beau, qu'il est charmant! Ah! que ses grâces sont parfaites! Ah! qu'il est beau, qu'il est charmant! Qu'il est doux ce divin enfant._** She would sing back, while kneeling in front of the glowing candles. She would giggle in delight as he would continue the song, _**Partez grands rois de l'Orient, V**_ _ **enez vous unir à nos fêtes!**_ _ **Partez grands rois de l'Orient,**_ _ **Venez adorez cet enfan.**_

_Feeling better, my little cherub?_

_Yes, angel! I love it!_ She felt a tear coming out from her cheek. Raoul heard her sniff and he rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "What are you thinking about?" she wiped her tear as she stared at Raoul's smiling face. She knew bringing up the Phantom would open wounds but she could elaborate a little. After all, it was only a childish memory.

"I remembered my Christmas when I was twelve. I was sneaking away after I had eaten chicken and cheese from the feast. I would always come down to the chapel to light a candle for my papa and I would cry silently because I was celebrating without him. Then my angel would sing a carol and I was finally happy. He would always comfort me and it makes me tear." 

Raoul slightly furrowed his brows with the small mention of the Phantom. No, he was no Phantom tonight. He was her angel of music. The one who had made her safe before he came. "I'm glad he was there to make you happy. Such loneliness should not be experienced so early for such a child. I'm sorry, Christine."

She held his hand and rubbed his knuckles. "It's alright, Raoul. It's not your fault. I, somehow, was glad that he was my friend that time. I would not have survived the sadness after the tragedy, both of us. We had found each other's company to be comforting and safe."

They both stayed there for a few moments, just looking out through the city until Raoul heard a faint growling from her stomach. They both laughed with the sound. "I think our baby's hungry, my love. Can you fetch a fruit from the pantry?" Christine asked of him, which Raoul quickly obliged.

"Actually, I was thinking of eating our dinner right now. Let me just call Perinne to help us out." But before he could open the door out, a whimper from behind him immediately alarmed him. He looked at Christine, holding her stomach and curling in pain on the divan.

"Raoul, my water broke! It hurts so much!" she yelled in pain. He noticed her dress wet from her thighs. He quickly held her arms and shouted for help. A couple of servants came in the room and helped him carry her on the bed. "Fetch the doctor and the midwife, quick! Perinne! Get me towels and water bowls!"

"Another shouting? Good Lord..." Henrietta remarked irritatingly as she read her latest novel. Philippe stood from his seat and looked out from the door. "Raoul and his wife were just too dramatic these past few months and it annoys me a lot, brother!" Before she could continue complaining, Philippe hushed her.

"Shut up, woman. Listen." Philippe stood in the middle of the hall, waiting.

"Philippe! The baby is coming!" His brother shouted from the other side, sending Philippe running towards the room.

* * *

**DECEMBER 24 1882 PROVINS, FRANCE**

"Your cat likes me, Monsieur." Elena said as she looked at the black, tiny cat on her lap. The little admiral meowed as he curled on her skirt. Erik fixed the white cravat on his neck while he stared at her on his divan. "He likes a lot of people. Because he's blind."

"Aw, he's just sweet. I guess we are going to have to leave him some Christmas treats before we leave for town." she stood to get the cat's food bowl and put corn treats for him. The little thing immediately jumped down and savored the gift. A knock was heard from the door and to Elena's surprise, Erik ran for the door and opened it widely. A postman gave him a letter and he happily thanked him back. She noticed Erik's sudden joy as he sat on the divan with her and lifted the fold of the envelope. He read the letter while smiling little by little. He would sometimes chuckle and even scratch his head. Whatever was making him smile right now, Elena just wished she could have the ability to do it too.

"Christine..." she heard him whisper from his lips. Just a faint whisper of a woman's name and it made her heart break. When Erik had finally finished the letter, he led out a deep sigh and felt the urge to look at the lady beside him.

"F-Forgive me. It was from a friend."

"Oh, Erik. It is alright. You can tell me anything." She had easily found out one of Erik's ways of lying. Fidgeting fingers and quivering lip were two of it. Erik parted his lips momentarily and absently pulled his waistcoat down. He stared at the ground for a moment before he finally spoke.

"Her name's Christine Daae. The first woman I had ever loved." he replied, with a hesitating glance. She felt cold water wash over her but she held herself together. "Yes?"

"I-I think this is a discussion good for another day." he awkwardly remarked as he forced a smile but Elena needed to know. She needed to know about her. About him.

"Please, Erik. It's quite alright. We have a lot of time." she said, as she moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She would always savor these simple touches with him. But she would also notice his discomfort. He sighed and continued.

"She is with child. The baby is set to be born this month. But all of those ways that she could use to forget me, she instead tried to beg me not to forget her. I just... She doesn't need to ask." he said, with a tearful smile across his lips. Erik had felt great joy reading her holiday letter. She wanted him to be happy, but he did not know how. Christmas was normally a usual day of his life. He would let it come to pass until New Year would come. Thousands of fireworks would not make him sleep for a few nights. Christmas was not that merry for the likes of him. Except not now.

"She must be a kind woman." she simply remarked. There were no proper words to say, anyway.

 _ **"Our souls were once one. She was day and I was night. Nothing in the world could pull us away from our small, little world. I did not live until she came."**_ Erik stood slowly to stare at the flickering light of his fireplace. He imagined Christine's face within his eyes. Elena stared at his looming figure, blocking the light on her way. She was unmoving. She thought she was being slapped in the face.

_**"She was my light taken away from me. No. I gave her away, instead."** _

"Gave her away?" she abruptly asked and Erik only smiled at her, faintly. _**"When you love someone, you will set her free, they said. And they were right, I'll be damned."**_

_**"She deserved to be with the man she truly loved. And I deserved to be alone, forever."** _

"No! That's not true, Erik!" she angrily stood and approached nearer to him, with blazing, dark eyes. "You are not alone!"

_**"That was what she once said..."** _

_**"And I refuse to accept that from you!"**_ she began to sing along with him. He widened his eyes in surprise. _**"They said we were both undeserving of happiness, and I refuse to believe that."**_

 _ **"All my life I had been this way, and you don't know what you are saying."**_ he removed himself away and walked behind her. 

_**"All my life I had been used, and you don't know what you are saying."**_ she replied, grabbing his firm shoulders, not minding the tremble from his arms. 

_**"There are a few years ahead of us, we cannot stand by forever."**_ she sang with certainty, making sure her message would stick into his mind. Erik's lips quivered in hopelessness. He shook his head, trying not to accept the words that might bring only pain.

_**"How I wanted, how I yearn to do what you said! But nothing works anymore but hide under the dark."** _

_**"How I wished, how I dreamed to do what I want! But nothing works if we just hide..."** _

"What do you want me to do, Elena?" he asked, with a sweet, tempting voice that would someday be the death of her.

"Give yourself a chance. To try again. If you ever need help, I'm here." she replied, grasping and feeling the coldness of his hand and putting it on her chest.

"Then tell me what I must do."

"I will." she smiled and slowly closed the distance between them, putting her warm lips against his, once again. It was as though Erik had finally embraced the feeling, he responded gently. His arms still and his breath steadied.

When they had finally parted, they smiled at each other, waiting for someone to snap their trance away. A loud clank of bell from the church boomed through the house and they had both breathed a sigh. "Shall we, Monsieur?"

"O-Of course." Erik replied with a chuckle, patting Monsieur Horatio on the head before reaching for Elena's hand and going out of the cabin. She held his hand tightly, savoring the sudden warmness of his hand. She smiled at the thought of encouraging him. About being a positive light of his life, that somehow she could finally change his mind and he would see her truly. She never felt this good and relieved. Just one of these moments, holding his hand or walking with him around town was euphoric. His eyes would shine under the moonlight, forming a bluish color. His flesh mask, forming a different kind of man. She did not notice the fast walking Erik was doing and she was barely keeping up. "Slow down, Erik! The gifts are not going to run away!"

"Have you heard Michel? His would be my first Christmas gift!" said Erik, with a childish wonder and excitement within his voice. Elena could only do but laugh freely at the sight. But deep inside, her heart broke for his last statement. Have he never received one Christmas gift, ever? _Oh God._ To think her gift for him was not enough.

"Was it a raise?" she jokingly said and he chuckled back. "We will never know!" 

They reached the restaurant just in time, surprising the two of them with joyous cheers and wine opening. Monsieur Michel immediately saw the shiny mask among the crowd. "Monsieur! Elena! Merry Christmas!" As loud unison of cheers emerged once again, almost blocking their hearing. Erik greeted back with a smile and wave but as he saw the Leroys on one of the middle tables, Erik smiled widely and laughingly welcomed the father and son.

"Just in time, my friends!" Erik carried the little boy around his arms and waved him up in joy. Elena laughed at the beautiful sight of her love. She had never seen him this free.

"Erik, you are late for the big man's challenge! It's your turn!" A drunk, slurry Mathis patted his shoulder and Erik almost flinched, expecting a slight sting of pain. But the man's drowsy smile assured them the opposite. _They were all just having a good time._

"What is this?" Erik asked with a faint snigger. Mathis called out the boys and encircled the vacant chairs around the two of them. Elena stood on top of a table to see the commotion, she gasped cheerfully when she found out they were doing the same ritual every season. Tom brought a long neck bottle of bourbon in front of Erik. "Mathis wins every season, just one minute chugging this thing! Think you can handle it, Erik?!" Michel shouted along with the younger men, cheering more loudly. Mathis only lifted a finger and tongue clicked in certainty, "No one had ever won against me, not even Michel or Rubren! No one!"

Erik stared at the full drink with confidence and hesitance at the same time. It had been too long ever since he drank alcohol straightly and to think morphine was better. But being challenged was his greatest amusement, he wanted to prove everyone wrong. "Really, Monsieur? Maybe not tonight." the crowd drew out _ooh's_ from their mouths as though they were taunting Mathis, barely standing upright. The masked man led out a mocking smirk. 

"Then show me!" Mathis, with a funny, confident laugh gave Erik the bottle with a slight snap. The men began to stamp their feet against the cold ground and their fists hitting the wooden tables loudly. "Down! Down! Down!" all of them mumbling in unison.

Erik held the tip of the glass, looking at his opponent with sheer victory, lifting it as quick as he could and sticking it onto his mouth. The loud chants began to ring through his ears as the sharp and bitterness of the liquid began to sting in his throat. _Maybe I won't win but still..._ His neck bobbled up and down rapidly due to the pressure and his eyes closed tightly, revealing the faint lines from the corners. It was as though their world had stopped moving and all of the people waited for a new victor, with only loud cheers booming within the walls of the restaurant.

"Holy mother of-, he had surpassed Tom's record! He's almost there!"

"No, no way!" Mathis faked a defeating emotion, almost feeling threatened of Erik's strength. The bottle was almost empty in half and Erik thought he was going to die. The acid began to taste normal in his throat but the sting was still there, burning him alive.

"Erik, don't push if it's too much!" Elena shouted from behind, observing him with worry. 

"Marius! Is our boy winning?!"

"Oh no!"

"Oh Yes!"

With a sharp silence, Erik lifted down the empty bottle with a loud gasp and holler coming out from his throat. The crowd cheered back happily as they carried the new drinking victor on their shoulders! "Yes! Erik! Erik! Erik!" Erik felt a rush of happiness and victory within his body. He could not stop smiling and laughing along with them. This was, indeed, a once in a lifetime memory that he would carry for the rest of his life. A moment of happiness and closeness that he would usually set aside and hate. 

At least, the world had let him be a man for now.

"Good Lord, Erik! You're a beast! And I'm proud of you!" Michel embraced him firmly as he bragged his new boy to the crowd. Mathis went beside him as he patted him on the head gladly. "I'm getting old!"

"Erik, you! Your throat must have hurt!" Elena embraced him around his neck and held his burning throat consciously. 

"I-I'm f-fine." With a slight pang of pain, he stuttered through his words and the lady only chuckled. 

The celebration went on, with people giving out gifts and money. Erik remained sitting for the whole time with the Leroys, still massaging his warm throat soothingly. The four of them would talk about a lot of things that had happened this year, although Erik made sure he would not blurt out anything that would rat him out. Instead, he scoped his talk only about the town.

"Erik! A gift for you, as I promised!" Michel, with a proud smile, handed him a small box with a white ribbon on top. "I know it's not much but consider it as my memorabilia for you."

When Erik opened the gift, his heart jumped in joy. His first gift, his first celebration and his first reward for his efforts shone with beauty. The golden pocket watch showed a great kind of virtue and importance. It was much more beautiful than his old, broken one left in the cabin. No matter how small gifts are to some other men, Erik would cherish all of them tearfully. No one had ever gifted him anything that was valuable, not even his family and not even a few people he once knew. But the old, businessman, with a kind, strong front that would always embarked on every townsmen's mind; had gifted him with a good heart. Erik could only smile and thank him profoundly. 

"Monsieur. This is beautiful. I cannot wish for more." Erik remarked as he embraced the old man briefly. Monsieur Michel chuckled in delight and tipped his tall hat. 

"Nah, you deserve it, Erik. I prefer giving my good friends, timeless treasures. I am truly glad I met you." 

He was a friend? _Even Nadir did not really tell him he was a friend._ Erik took the comment with heart. He nodded gratefully and watched the small crowd of their company enjoying the night of their lives. For Erik, this was the normal, Christmas celebration he had ever experienced. A chance to be a normal person like them was breathtaking and scary at the same time. But he did not fret, for he felt fine now. _I could not ask for more. I hope this would last much longer._

A few moments, some of the men began to bid their farewells, with reddened faces and with breaths smelling from too much alcohol and sweets. Elena went out from the washroom with Marius, when she found Charles Leroy sitting uprightly on his seat, preparing to go home while her love, laid on the couch with one forearm covering his eyes. He consumed too much drinks that he could not even sit anymore.

"Oh, Erik. Is he really that drunk?" she asked as she set down a sleepy Marius on a chair.

"Oh, he began muttering songs beside me I almost thought he was a prima donna." the blind man jokingly remarked which made her laugh. She tapped Erik's shoulder to wake him up and he only drew a hum from his parted lips.

"Erik, it's time to go home." she whispered softly.

"But I am home."

"No, you're not, silly. You're drunk."

"Really? But I am in my dark home, Christine. I thought I told you not to... sing too loud from your lungs..." As Erik replied the last remark, she flinched in dismay. He was thinking of her again.

"No, Erik. You're not. I'll carry you home now. Could you stand for me?" he slowly obliged to her, forcing himself to sit and lay his arm on her shoulder. They both heavily stood and began to walk slowly towards out. The Leroys heard the faint stepping and they instinctively followed her out of the door.

They bid their farewells to the old gentlemen and carefully walked under the joyful night. "Dear, you're heavy." she mumbled when she almost tripped.

"You are heavy too, Christine. Too heavy to love."

"And I meant that to you too." she heard a faint hum from him as they continued walking on the road towards the way of the woods. The Leroys had sought to their home and bid their good nights. "Be gentle to him, he's a mess." Charles muttered before they went in and retired for the night.

Elena squinted her eyes through the dark until she could see a faint light of the lantern from the cabin. She sighed in relief when she had finally stepped on the porch and lifted the drunk man forcefully. "Erik, do you have your keys?" she asked.

The man only spoke, "Check my left waist pocket." Elena's hand reached for the pocket and felt the cold metal on her skin. Erik was almost relieved she had not checked the right one. The string might scare her enough to run away.

She set him down on the divan exhaustingly and laid down on the side fauteuil. "God, you are too much!" she chided as she stared at his sleeping figure on the side. He still wore his black cloak and hat while he slept. She knelt near him as she began to slowly pull down the hat from him and cloak from his shoulders and back. She noticed him opening his eyes barely and the softness emerged from them. It was pure bliss. His face crumpled slightly when she lifted his head upward and fixed the bothering porcelain properly, pulling the string firmly around his head. She did not plan to remove it from him while he was barely awake, it would be against his will. She did not want that. _I care for you too much._

She was about to stand until Erik's warm hand reached for her wrist. They both stared at each other, waiting for someone to speak anything. His eyes sparkled and his lips curved slightly. "You look beautiful, Elena."

Her breath hitched from her lungs. She thought she was about to die anytime when he had spoken those lovely words. She was beautiful. She was beautiful in his eyes and he was not even awake. He had thought of her and he was looking at her. She knelt back slowly near him as she felt her eyes sting with tears.

 _ **"You too are beautiful. So very beautiful."**_ she sang sweetly at him. He smiled handsomely, slowly gaining enough consciousness. He reached for her cheek and caressed it.

_**"How could you love this abhorrent creature, little dove?"** _

_**"Because I can and I will."** _

"Please rest now, Erik. Another journey will begin tomorrow." she whispered and kissed his forehead. He only hummed back as he slowly closed his eyes. 

"You said you have a gift for me?" he mumbled through slurry lips. She smiled at the thought of him remembering her promise even when drunk. "Yes I do."

She closed the distance between them as she pressed her lips through his, this time with love and passion. He obliged with her when he explored her mouth and tangled with her tongue. She gasped slightly, feeling the intensity and heat of their mouths. She had savored the sweetness and benignity of their kiss, almost trying to resist letting go from his seducing pull. He parted from her with a grateful smile, "That is the best gift I had ever received."

"Really? It was no different from our kisses." she thought. 

"Because you gave it to me as a gift." he lastly said as he had finally succumbed to sleep.

Elena went back on her chair and lifted her legs on the armrests to sleep. She did not mind her back and arms stretching painfully against the hard seating. All she wanted was to be near him, for if she stayed far, she could not breath. "Merry Christmas, Erik."

Tonight, there was no Christine Daae. Only the honorable ruler and his bright, shining light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elena = shining light  
> Erik = honorable ruler
> 
> Hey! It's Christmas in my Phantomverse! Something's really going on with the De Chagnys and I'm itching on revealing it already! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for the 30 kudos! I actually thought my story was not much but seeing you guys supporting this shameless fic makes me very happy! Please don't hesitate to jump in our little company and tell me your shenanigans, I would love to read more from you all! 
> 
> Btw, I would really like to tell here about my dismay to the POTO London & UK closing like no way! It's been 30 plus years and it's just so sad to see the theater close. I just hope ALW won't change it into something cheaper in order to adjust to the new necessary changes. But anyways, thanks for reading the chapter and take care!


	19. The New Life

**The New Life**

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**DECEMBER 15 1882 PARIS, FRANCE**

"One more time, Madame. He's almost there!" the doctor voiced out, making Christine yelp in pain, grabbing hold of the blanket beside her. She had forgotten how long she was pushing hard and screaming in pain. The pain of childbirth and the pain of wanting to hold your child tonight. She was beginning to weaken and feel sleepy, but she could not withhold for now, not until her child is safe. She pushed one last time before she felt the empty void between her legs and she gasped in surrender.

A few moments had passed, a loud cry began to sound within the walls of their bedroom. Christine felt tears flowing from her eyes as she smiled at herself. _At last._ The mid wife washed the baby with warm towel before she could put him on to his mother's arms. "It's a beautiful boy, madame." the wet nurse remarked as she grabbed some towels to cover the crying babe. When she lifted to wash him behind, she suddenly gasped shockingly at what she saw. The doctor approached him with furrowed brows.

"What's wrong?!" the old doctor asked.

"D-Doctor, I-I" she pointed her finger to the baby's back, seeing the horrid figure etched on his skin. The doctor widened his eyes at the sight. Two, distorted scars formed on each side just below his shoulder until the hips, forming a winged form. The skin looked like tree roots and as soft as an organ tissue. The two doctors began to cringe in horror. 

"What is it?" Christine whispered just behind them, barely sitting up on her bed as she lifted her arm to reach for her baby. "W-What's wrong with my baby?"

"M-Madame, he is-"

"A beautiful boy. Do you want us to call the Vicomte or-" before the doctor could continue, Christine shook her head in worry.

"Please, I want to hold my child." she both lifted her hands in plead, asking them to put her babe on her arms. The doctor asked the wet nurse to call for the father as he gently lifted the child onto her chest. Christine gasped in delight and pure love. Her tears had finally shed at the sight of her beautiful child.

"Christine! Thank God!" Raoul immediately went in to see his family after suffering from worry and despair outside the room. He sat immediately beside her and kissed her sweaty forehead. "I'm proud of you, my love."

Both of them stared at the bundle of sunshine and confusion etched on their faces as they noticed their child's appearance. Gustave De Chagny continued wiggling his small arms for anything to reach, his thin, small black hair swept behind his head, his skin glowed like the color of the sand. Everything was perfect except for his eyes, which was still tightly closed. 

"His hair's black. your father must have blessed him." Raoul smiled at the thought of Gustave Daae's wavy, curly hair. Christine chuckled in delight, caressing the baby's plump cheek. He cooed in response.

The little bud had finally calmed down when his mother softly hummed a melody near his ears. He responded to her by opening his eyes for the first time. The world almost shook. Christine hitched a breath looking at the shine of his orbs. It was soft brown, mixed with slight shades of amber. Her papa's eyes were green and her husband's were blue. The little boy cried when Christine's hold of him slightly tightened, she lifted his head to put on her chest and that was when she noticed the red patch of skin on his shoulder.

"Oh God." Raoul felt his soul lifting away from him. Both of them widened their eyes when they saw the stretched skin across his back, patched with mad, red swelling. The baby started to cry through the pain. Christine tried to soothe him by singing more lullabies but the pain was too much for his small body. The doctor tried to carry him away for a little while to put some cold compress to soothe his back. Christine felt the emptiness from her arms as she looked at Raoul's solemn face.

"Raoul..."

"Christine..." they both stared at each other momentarily, both had no strength to speak any word.

"Raoul. Whatever it is you are thinking, I'm so sorry." her mind flooded of him. The Phantom, her angel of music and her tormentor once again. She did not expect all of this to happen. His eyes, his skin and his deformity. Everything was about him. Everything inch of his body now crafted on her son. And Raoul thought of the same thing and somehow, he heard himself cursing him once again.

"He did this to you..." he mumbled which led out a sob from Christine. "When will he leave us alone, even from his grave?" he mumbled, almost feeling the sting of tears from his eyes.

"Raoul, please. He's just a child. A little boy."

"I want to kill him..."

"Raoul, I beg you."

"Look at him, Christine!" he shouted, alarming the doctors near them and torturing Christine. He looked at the crying baby once again, shaking his head in dismay. "He hurt you before I could save you." he whispered to himself.

She noticed how Raoul had not thought of another possibility of Gustave's birth. Her unknown infidelity. Her unregrettable betrayal. Her craving of flesh with him. Yet, it had finally took a toll on her. It felt like a falling avalanche in her life. She almost wanted to admit it to her weeping husband. She wanted not to lie to him anymore. She could see how he trusted her so much, not wanting to believe of her deceiving him. She wanted to prove her love. 

And yet, she could not.

"Raoul, whatever punishment that had occurred upon me, it was not your fault. It was not our son's fault. Please, Raoul, come to me..." She hated herself for the first time. Because she only wanted to protect her son, she wanted to protect Raoul from humiliation and to protect her family from disgrace. And all she had to do was to lie against Erik. She had to deny him once again. She had to ruin his name once again. For their son and his.

"It's his fault. He did this to you. This..." _Please no, Raoul._ She had to stop herself from defending Erik into this mess. She had to, for Gustave. _Oh God, my angel. Forgive me._

She whimpered when Raoul bolted from the room and ran away. "Raoul!" she tried to call him back but the emptiness of the room occupied her. She looked at the now sleeping baby on the wet nurse's arms. She lifted her arms once again. "Please let me hold my little boy." 

The wet nurse humbly obliged as she carefully put him on his mother's arms. As though he had felt a sweet touch, he tried to reach for Christine's little thumb and hold it firmly, not wanting to let go. Her heart fell for the small gesture. Gustave stared at her with a wide smile, recognizing his mother's beautiful, exhausted face. She felt the painful guilt passing through her nerves. For having to shun his blood father's existence at Raoul's face. If any of them had found out her sin, they would throw them both away, including Raoul. She did not want that to happen. She did not want Raoul to be disgraced for marrying a woman like her. She loved Raoul so much as she loved her son. If she was willing to disgrace her life, she would. If she would die, carrying the guilt forever, she would be willing to burn in hell.

A mother and a wife's love was inevitable. She thought of Erik. Her poor, unhappy Erik, suffering from such a punishment she had bestowed upon him without knowing. Her heart cried for him. Her soul crumbling for him. He had loved her and yet she had turned him away, humiliating him and denying him. If there was one thing she could only do for him, that would be loving their son. She stared at his eyes and saw her angel of music within. He was so beautiful, just like him. Gustave was the Phantom's redemption and the other side of his face. His inner soul and his innocence in one. For Erik, For Raoul and for Gustave, she would sacrifice what she had even if it meant dying alone.

Raoul paced around the darkness of the music room. What had he done? The Phantom of the Opera was dead and now he was alive, once again! Through the eyes of an innocent child. And worse, he had cursed him with his horridness. He was trying to crumble this family apart. The family he loved so much and always would. His sweet, Christine, violated against her will. Giving her the remaining flesh of his rotten corpse. He wanted to hate him, kill him and pray to God he would be punished forever into the fire. Raoul weakly knelt on the cold ground, covering his face with his cold palms. 

He saw how Christine had begged for the baby's life. She was begging him to accept Gustave. He saw the love within her eyes when she saw his. Her tears, crying for the little child. _He's his son._ He had thought but whenever he would, his heart would sting in pain. _He's your son._ It was as though a calming word. A kind acknowledgement. He cried for his cowardice and his weakness. _I was too late and yet._ He remembered the soft eyes. The soft color and its goodness. The same color he had saw from the man in the opera house. The same eyes that had cried for his lost love and for his newly found redemption. It was his fault that Raoul would have to suffer with those eyes. He would not have the strength to hate and disdain him forever if he would look upon Gustave. An innocent and a blameless child.

 _Either way you choose you cannot win._ The words had rung into his head. They both lost and he had won. He might be laughing within his grave but... The Phantom of the Opera would do that, but not her angel of music. Who was he, truly? Which one was he? 

_Christine, I love you._ Of all men, why did he have to be that way? Why did he have to hurt the woman they both loved and love her at the same time? Raoul crumpled on the floor, pulling his own hair forcefully.

 _Maybe he still wanted to live._ By how? With Gustave? A burden a boy needed to carry for the rest of his life? _Maybe he wanted to be accepted._ Through Gustave? Did he need to know the abhorrence of his blood's face? All of these thoughts had washed over Raoul with one sitting. He felt helpless, cowering in fear and cruel for leaving Christine on her own instead of soothing her. He was angry and yet he was not. 

It was not Christine's fault nor the baby's. Nor his and the Phantom. Both of them had loved and hurt her. Both of them she had loved and betrayed. 

Raoul loved her. Loved her to the point he would abandon his title for her. But if she wanted to protect their name, he knew she had to hide everything. She was doing all of this for him and for her son. Here he was, a stupid sod while his wife was handling the problem by herself. But there was no problem. Gustave was born and he would be loved, as Raoul had promised to her.

Raoul slowly stood from the ground and wiped his tears with his forearm. He loved her and he always would. There would be no way the child must be sacrificed nor abandoned. _Raoul, remember his soft, brown eyes. The sweet sight of his existence. My saving grace._ He led out a soft chuckle, he had fallen in love once again. Yes! He had fallen in love!

Forget the Phantom nor ghost! There was only him, the love of his life and his little bundle from the heavens above. He swore to God he would protect them with all his strength. He swore to himself that he would not abandon them again. And he swore to the long gone, Phantom that he would erase his sins and the curse he had put on the child, forgetting him forever and let his memory stay under the ground, by loving their son.

While going back towards the bedroom, he noticed the staring Philippe in the middle of the hallway. He ignored him and proceeded to open the door and see his beloved wife, feeding their child with breastfeed. She never looked so exquisite like this before. She was now a mother, such divinity and kindness in one body. Raoul thought he would weep in front of her again but he shrugged the urge away and sat slowly on the edge of the bed near her. They both stayed silent for a few moments, waiting for Gustave to finish suckling milk. He observed her blissfully, smiling to himself for having been blessed with such a family. He loved them so much.

He stared at the reddened scars on his back and noticed something that was childishly formed. "He's a fallen angel, born to bless us with his beauty." he whispered, which made Christine lift her head to look at him. She sighed weakly and furrowed her brows in sadness. Fresh tears began to flow from her green eyes.

"Raoul, if...if you do not have the courage to accept this child... I'm sorry I- I cannot leave him, I cannot give him away. I-I love him and I-I would willingly take full responsibility as- long as... my child would be safe and loved. I-I'm s-so sorry..." she could not stop herself from stuttering anymore and sobbing hurtfully. She continued gasping for air as she tried to take hold of Gustave comfortably. Raoul lifted himself nearer to her and cradled her quivering body against his chest. He caressed her back soothingly and kissed her forehead with the same love. He regretted leaving her like this, abandoning her into such cruel thoughts. No, he would not leave them for his sake. And for their sake, not even France could claim him.

"Stop thinking like that, Christine. I love you. I love you so much, my love. I'm so sorry for leaving you. It won't happen ever again." he faintly whimpered along with her as he held them both firmly. Fearing of letting them ago. "It was not the child's fault nor was yours. It's no one's fault now. It's okay. I'm here. Forgive me, my dearest." 

Christine clutched his arm and held on to it, fearing of him leaving as she held the child with the other. "R-Raoul, please look at him. He is so beautiful, see? Feel his heartbeat, it is strong." she tried to pull him nearer, making him hold the little hand against his skin. Raoul soothed her for the last time as he carried the baby through his arms. He stared at the blooming innocence from his son's face and his soft, brown eyes sparkled with delight. Raoul felt a touch from his pinky, noticing the small fist grasping it. He widened his eyes and stared at his son. "My God, you are so beautiful." he whispered.

If the angel of music would have not been cursed by God, he would have looked like this child. A child born of his likeness and hers. A Daae and now, A De Chagny. Raoul laughed at the thought. A son, that would carry his name and would accept everything of him. He had imagined the little boy, asking for his advice, asking for affection and asking for his guiding hand. A father, he could hardly believe it. He had, indeed, fallen in love.

He gently kissed the smooth forehead and rubbed his nose against his little one. "Christine, please. Let me be his father."

Christine cried in happiness, smiling widely at the sight of her family. "Oh, Raoul. You are his father."

"I will not abandon you anymore, I will not shun him away and I will, God almighty, I will love him till the day I die. Even if the world would go against us, I will not sacrifice him away. Christine, I am so proud of you." He kissed her forehead and lips, savoring her new scent and feeling her unconditional love. The three of them had both held on each other, finally smiling of their own victory. 

"Wish I could have a husband like him." the wet nurse mumbled into herself, while watching them with appreciation and happiness. The doctor tapped her on the shoulder, signaling them both to leave the family for a moment until Raoul called him for a moment. He nodded and went with him at the corner of the room.

"Doctor, if it would not be such a trouble. I would like to ask for this moment to be a secret. Whatever you had witnessed, you had saw and analyzed from my son's health and condition, please do not inform this to anyone, not even my family."

"Monsieur Le Vicomte, M-May I ask why-" he immediately remembered Philippe's favor of him before about his brother hiding a secret. But the look from the young De Chagny's eyes looked at him with plead.

"Please, no questions asked. Just... I will pay you if you would swear to me to keep this from them. P-Please... I beg you. For my family. They are all that I have." he begged, his eyes stinging with warmth. Raoul kept on mumbling his beg, setting aside his pride for now. The doctor stood silent for a moment before nodding in assurance.

"You have my word, Monsieur Le Vicomte." he replied and he heard the young man sigh in relief.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I truly owe you our lives, Doctor. Thank you for helping my wife and child. Thank you for making them safe." he smiled at the old man before he went back beside his wife, caressing his son's head with love and care.

Doctor Varlosi was not a selfish man nor a prideful one. When he saw that love from the Vicomte's eyes, he knew he needed to do the right thing. The De Chagny family was too much of a big shell to carry and he did not want to remain there for any longer than his scope. Plus, the Comte's favor with him was a huge conspiracy. His eyes had showed determination and at the same time, fierceness. If the child's existence was much of a threat then he would not ruin this humble family into shambles just because he was demanding enough for a reward from a dangerous man.

When he and his wet nurse finally went downstairs to go home, a huge hand pulled him away to the nearest corner. The Comte's eyes sparkled under the moonlight but deep within was fear and impatience. "Well, doctor?"

With his words, he would secure the fate of the new De Chagny. A safe fate. "Black haired, brown eyes and as flawless as a woman."

"Did you say black haired?" he asked, with confused eyes.

"A trait he had inherited from the Vicomtess' father. As well as his brown eyes." he replied once again.

Philippe sneered at the reply. The boy was not a product of a De Chagny but a Daae, instead. A family that was not much known and dead for long. But he shrugged the thought away. _If it would save them, then._ "Nothing else?"

The old doctor shook his head. "Nothing else, unfortunately, Monsieur Le Comte. That is all I can tell to you." with a strong nod of farewell, he left the Comte's side and left the house with a relieving sigh.

"Then that man was right." Philippe whispered to himself.

Raoul stared at the sleeping figures of his wife and son on the bed, smiling to himself. He had done well. They both had done well. He was now a father and she was a mother. He caressed the soft, plump cheek of Gustave and heard him coo in delight. "Hmm, want more, my little prince?" he laughed when the baby smiled in reply. He continued soothing his cheeks.

"He has your father's laugh." he said absently, waking the exhausted wife beside him. She chuckled sweetly. "You mean when he snorts after?" They both laughed at the memory. That was one of Gustave Daae's traits that Raoul would cherish forever. The breaking of the solemn faces of two children, listening to a man tell a story which was not that comical enough, laugh at his own boisterously followed with a pig snort. Gustave De Chagny laughed along with his parents, with the same one.

"Oh Lord, he was not even telling us a joke and yet here he is, killing us with the snorting." he laughed loudly as he kept on hearing his son laugh on his own absently. He watched Christine crumple beneath the sheet, gasping for air from laughing.

"I know! Oh my, I had never laughed like this for so long!" she replied, covering her face in embarrassment. When she squinted her stomach slightly, Raoul laid near her, moving the hairs from her face away. "How do you feel, my love?"

"Never been better." she said as she kissed him deeply, telling him through their lips that she loved him and that she wanted him. He responded back the same. Raoul would not ask for more and so was she. They both whispered their love before they had finally both succumbed to a deep slumber.

* * *

**JANUARY 7 1883 PROVINS, FRANCE**

"Well, look at you. You're getting fat." Erik whispered when he watched little Horatio voraciously eat his lunch. He stood up and grabbed the used plate from the table. He had savored the last week after the new year came. He was able to hide in his cabin all by himself and finally rest from the daily chores. Elena would sometimes visit him every afternoon just to talk or eat her own lunch in front of him. _Funny girl, indeed._ Yet he loved her company. She was able to notice his soft spot and was trying so hard to make an effort for him, at least. He would not want to send her away, for he would always feel excitement on seeing her.

A loud knock sounded from the door and he immediately threw the dishes in the sink and left them behind. He swept back his hair properly and fixed the mask firmly on his face, making sure he was perfectly presentable enough. The admiral began to meow loudly as he had finished his food and went to go to potty. 

Erik walked to the front door and breathed a deep sigh. With a wide smile to welcome the pretty lady on the other side, he swiftly opened the door and a frown emerged from his lips. Madame Giry's stern and Meg Giry's jolly faces welcomed Erik with a slight surprise. "It's the first time I saw you smile." Meg Giry mumbled with a gasp.

"Madame and Miss Giry, welcome to my humble abode." he replied, sarcastically.

"I am honored for such opportunity to visit you, Monsieur Le Phantom or should we say, Erik?" the stern woman muttered with a smirk. Erik felt his finger fidget in annoyance.

"It's been such a long time, Monsieur! Almost nine months, indeed!" the little Giry exclaimed, with a sincere, wide smile. 

"May we come in, Erik?" 

"Of course! Come and make yourself comfortable." he said as he widely opened the door and let them both in. Meg sat on the divan comfortably but she gasped when she saw the blind kitten emerging from the washroom. "Oh! You have a kitty!" said Meg, carrying the cat and rubbing her nose on his.

"The Admiral Horatio is a funny one." Erik remarked while preparing them both refreshments.

"You mean the blind admiral?"

"Yes." Erik lifted the tea on the tray and set them aside on the center table. 

"I like what you did to this cabin." Madame Giry muttered, scanning the whole, newly furnished house with fascination. She caressed the book spines on the parlor shelf.

"As you had heard before, I am an architect. I took advantage of my skills fixing this house to its formal glory, erasing the bloody memories people had witnessed once." said Erik, as he sipped his own tea. 

"That is... good. Everything's quite to your liking, Monsieur?" she asked with curiosity. Erik would noticed the slight discomfort from the Madame which is opposed to the younger Giry beside her, still cradling his cat on her arms.

"Why are you here, Madame Giry?" he asked, this time with firmness. The older woman sat properly and took hold of her cane. 

"Christine Daae's child was born last month. And she wanted me to give this to you." She pulled out an envelope similar to the old envelopes Erik would receive. "I took this opportunity to visit you and of course, we originally planned to visit Meg's cousins in the town."

Erik reached for the letter and recognized its handwriting, it was, indeed, from Christine. "Do you mind If I read this with myself for now?"

"Of course not, please." Madame Giry grabbed a book from the shelf to occupy herself. Erik went upstairs to his bedroom and unfolded the paper to read. Just like what the older woman had said, Christine had finally bore a son, whom they named Gustave Michel De Chagny. A beautiful, little boy with black hair and brown eyes, which she emphasized, traits that he had inherited from her father. She also wrote how the baby would smile when hearing music, which made Erik's heart flutter. He must have got it from his mother. Erik almost wished he could teach the boy music as he had taught her before, but that was a slim chance.

Christine wrote how she would love to introduce him to Erik, which humbled him on his seat. He never thought how time had passed by so fast. He could even strongly remember her cries during that night and now she was finally happier. And that made Erik sigh in relief. One day or sooner enough, she would stop writing and he would settle permanently, creating a new life he once wanted to experience. But how would it be?

He read the letter a few times before he tucked it along with the former letters on the drawer. He went back downstairs to see Madame Giry already cooking something from his pantry, "Forever the responsible one, are we?" Erik remarked, with a sincere smile on his face, which made the Madame smile in return. "We had a long journey, Monsieur. Plus, I was surprised of the large amount of stocks you have in your kitchen." 

"My sufficient wages gave me enough money to survive." he replied, as he started washing the dishes on the sink. Madame Giry looked behind her. 

"Oh, you finally work? May I ask your current occupation?"

"A pianist, mostly. But I would vouch for the other instruments sometimes. My employer was... very accommodating."

"Oh! That is an overwhelming job, considering you have to be out in public." she looked back at her chopped onions. Erik only snorted.

"That was what I had thought from the beginning, but it was not that bad. I did my ways." he said with a smirk of confidence.

"Pray tell what ways?"

"Switching my mask into this, as you can see. Also, a little bit of some seasoning of lies had worked in my favor. People tend to praise retired servicemen than deformed musicians who once lived in a sewer." Madame Giry momentarily stopped stirring her sauce when she had heard his reply. She was dismayed, when she had almost thought that the opera ghost would change tactics.

"I did changed my tactics, that excludes the extortion and threats. I had my job, offering myself humbly to the employer and told him stories of war and that's it! No one was harmed, I have been finally accepted in a small town and I am, no matter if you don't believe it, loved!" he abruptly stopped after realizing that he had raised his voice to his guest and he lifted one hand in surrender. "Forgive me, madame. My temper was still... improving."

"I see. Then surprising as it may be, I'm truly happy for you." she continued her cooking with a smile.

"Thank you, Madame."

Erik finished the dishes and was about to go when he remembered something, "What news from the Opera Populaire?" he asked, with a stern deepness.

"Well, few months ago the managers lost a great deal, amount of money. But they managed to hire new singers to feature the former opera pieces but the amount of money coming in was not that high enough. Also, just before Christmas, they had reported to have seen 'the opera ghost' dead from the sewers and that had finally concluded the search." she replied as she set the pasta on the plates.

"So, I'm now dead to them?"

"Indeed. And that makes quite an advantage, hm? You are free to go as you please."

"Unless they see me with the same mask. Luckily, not a lot of people here were much informed of the news. The mask was a common thing now." he brought up the places to the dining area and guided the Girys to sit. Erik sat in front of them, watching them both eat on their own.

"You won't eat, Monsieur?" Meg asked, muffling.

"I already ate." he smiled in return.

Erik spared them a few moments of silence with their eating, playfully rubbed his cat's own nose and caress its small body. Meg would sometimes snicker in delight at the sight. Who could have known that the once, infamous Phantom of the Opera had a soft spot for kittens? "You said you have a cousin in Provins?" Erik absently asked while watching the women finish their lunch.

"Yes, Monsieur. That is why we know of this town. Also, I love dining in at Monsieur Michel's restaurant during the night! His steak was the finest I had ever tasted!" she excitingly replied, wiggling her arms in demonstration.

"Indeed, it is. I work there."

"Really? That is so nice!"

"Monsieur Michel is a kind and an honest businessman, he provides enough salary for his employees as well as some things. That includes friendship." he smiled, clutching the gold watch in his pocket.

"Yes! Although he's kind of scared of maman but he is a kind, old man."

"Meg Giry!" the madame slapped her shoulder accidentally. The young lady only giggled.

"Hm. I'm glad I had known of that. The restaurant is very successful and jovial in view. Maybe the brightest place you'll ever see in this town at night."

"There had been some strange occurrences these past few days in Paris." Madame Giry suddenly disturbed the conversation, which made Erik turn his head at her with a confused gaze. "Which are?"

"Maman, is it the right time to-?" Before Meg could continue, her mother only led out a hand.

"Strange men, planting smuggled bombs in some places. Just a few days ago, the Quartier Latin was found containing fifty barrel bombs under the ground. A few, upperclassmen died in an ambush." Meg Giry almost felt her mother tremble in fear as she spoke. Erik led out a sigh.

"Paris is not safe anymore for women like both of you. If anything, you must seek some place safe."

"That will do, but I'm afraid our salary from the opera house is the only thing we can use to survive. Paris is becoming more dangerous. I must advise you to stay here and don't even think about going back for anything."

"I don't think I have the will to go back there. As much as I love Paris with all my heart, she never loved me back." Erik brought down his kitten from his lap and pulled his waistcoat properly.

"We talked to Christine, informing her of the problems happening. We were assured by her and the Vicomte that they are safe and if anything, they would go to their vacation house at Cannes if such danger would emerge." she assured him and Erik nodded gratefully.

"That is good. Good... I am quite... confident that the Vicomte will protect them with all he can." he almost felt the urge to sneer to his own words. But he was glad that the Madame did not open it up that much.

"Have you both seen the baby?" he spoke again, trying to change the subject. 

"Oh, yes. We visited them last week for the christening. Such a beautiful, little boy. He looked so much like his grandfather." As though Madame Giry had changed into something kind, Meg and Erik both widened their eyes.

"Gustave Daae?"

"Yes! I met her father a few months before he died. Gustave was a very handsome man. Flocked by maidens all over Paris, and he played the violin very well." she replied, with fascination.

"I think that's another story you will need to tell soon. But tell me more." Erik scooted nearer the table and listened intently.

"It was almost quite intriguing that the little De Chagny had not inherited much of their appearance. Such elite looking men."

"Maybe God had enough of blond looking fops in the family." he chuckled at his own joke. But he immediately stopped when the Madame sneered at him. 

"Christine's beauty needed to be passed on, I'm sure of that. And I had never fallen in love before with just a written description of a person. She had managed to provide me enough to imagine the baby's face in my head. It was almost... surreal." Erik managed to talk back through the conversation and Madame Giry almost hitched a breath when she noticed his eyes sparkled in love. _Dear God, blood was, indeed, stronger even from afar._

"I would love to meet her child one day. In a nice, mannerly place, of course."

"She would have loved that." Madame Giry replied, clutching her own watch from her pocket. "Oh, it's almost evening. We must better go then."

"Indeed, I'll be on my way to work later too. Go now before it goes dark. We will see each other again soon, Madame and Miss Giry. Thank you for your kindness and the letter, too." He remarked, kissing both of their knuckles and opening the door for them.

"Farewell for now, Monsieur Erik. Thank you for your hospitality." Meg Giry thanked, bowing her head slightly.

"Not good enough hospitality, though. But I will improve." 

The Girys walked through the main road directing towards the town. Meg hooked her hand on her mother's arm, trying to nudge her to notice. "Gustave Daae's eyes were green, maman. Just like Christine's."

The Madame did not falter, "I know."

"But why did you not tell him? We clearly both noticed it, as bright as day." 

"My dear, whatever that had happened between the two of them that night must be buried. We cannot afford these silent moments to be of noise, once again. They are both spending their good lives." The Madame held on her daughter's arm firmly.

"It is better that the Phantom of the Opera will remain dead, forever. And that he had not left anything in this world except his music and his crimes. Whom we saw a while ago was Erik, that was it. And Gustave De Chagny, well, the son of the Vicomte and Vicomtess De Chagny."

"I understand, maman." Meg Giry's face had gloomed in guilt. She took a glance back at the cabin before proceeding to walk forward.

_As the Vicomte had asked of us, no one must know what truly lies on his flesh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Baby's here! And I kind of changed him a little than the real Gustave from Love Never Dies. Also, LND Raoul sucks, I will always love POTO Raoul!  
> Also wanting to inform y'all that most historical stuff going on here are purely fictional but inspired from some real points.
> 
> Thanks for reading this chapter once again and as Sierra would always say: You are Enough!


	20. The New Protégé

**The New Protégé**

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**MARCH 7 1885 PARIS, FRANCE**

A sheer cry was heard from the nursery, which made Raoul and Christine run immediately towards the room. "Mama!" they heard from Gustave as they went in with worry. Raoul was the first one to immediately cradle Gustave on his arms and to whisper smooth hushes near his ear. "It's okay, my little _mon ange._ Papa's here. Shh." 

But Gustave would not stop bawling in tears and both of them were confused. Christine had already fed the baby a few minutes ago and she was almost sure he would be asleep for a long time after. But his frequent cries had begun to worry them a lot. It sounded almost in pain.

And yet it was. When Raoul accidentally took hold of his back, he cried louder than ever. Raoul whimpered in fear as he lifted Gustave on the crib, trying to see his bare, reddened back. "Christine, look." 

They saw the winged deformity reddening in pain. It was tearing his skin apart, and the wrinkled skin was rubbing against the fabric of his bed. "Raoul, we should call for the doctor. Maybe he would know how to soothe his skin." Christine muttered with full worry within her eyes. Raoul nodded in approval and he asked their steward to fetch for their doctor. 

"The skin was irritated, my love. That's what makes it painful for him. My poor Gustave." Raoul lifted him again, cradling him. 

The doctor went in after an hour to check on Gustave. The doctor told them that his skin was changing through the baby's growth. It would enlarge according to the person's figure. The more he would grow, the more the scars would follow as well. Christine could only do but sigh and held on Raoul's tight fist on his lap, comforting him. The old doctor gave them a cold cream to put on his back after every bath a day and before bedtime, to soothe the wounds from reddening more. The man also assured them that Gustave would not suffer from the pain forever, it would surely stop when he would begin to grow after the infant stage, stiffening the skin more. 

"Thank you, doctor. We can't do anything without you. We just wanted to be sure our son's alright." Raoul thanked, shaking the doctor's hand.

"No worries, Monsieur Le Vicomte. The boy is strong, indeed. He will overcome the pain soon."

The doctor left and Raoul went back in to see Christine kissing their son to sleep once again. He stood from the doorway for a few moments, just clutching the sleeve from his elbow, in deep thought. "Was it pain to him too? Feeling the skin betraying your body?" he whispered solemnly.

"Raoul..." Christine stood and walked to him, wanting to comfort him.

"It's just... His face. It must be painful for him, too. And this curse, whether a painful etch on the skin, he had put it on our child too. It was making him suffer, Christine! Gustave doesn't deserve this!" Raoul began to raise his voice again, but with sorrow.

"Raoul, please. I know Gustave did not deserve this, he's a lovely, innocent boy and we both love him. But what about the Phantom? He should not be blamed for being born like that, he did not like one bit of it. He did not deserve being loathed by his own mother, by his own friends and by us! The world had shunned him, because of the face which had brought him so much pain." she replied, with a tear flowing through her cheek.

"I promise you, Raoul. Gustave won't suffer the same fate. We can do this, both of us. We are a great team, Raoul. We will love him unconditionally and protect him with all our strength."

Raoul stopped on his trance and softened his face with remorse. She was right. The Phantom or whatever moniker everyone called him, he was once in pain. He was able to survive it, but without a loving arm of a mother nor father. As anyone would try to understand, he was unloved and was not capable of loving back. He would always be in pain forever. And it cringed him. Such cruel men! Such vicious beasts! You had all turned a man into a monster. And Christine, a real angel, she had turned him back into life and he died, redeemed and whole. Whole enough for God to accept him to the heavens.

No matter how a man like him could be dangerous and evil, someone would always think there was goodness beneath the depths of his heart. And the world was doing everything it could to shatter the little piece of it. His mother would always tell him that every night before she died. The scared, little six year old child, hiding behind his mother's skirt whether Philippe would scold him. He was not like Philippe. He was not strong and stern enough, and he did not want to.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Christine. I was just so worried of Gustave. Thank you for being patient with me." he said, smilingly as he kissed Christine on the forehead. She giggled in delight and kissed him back.

"It's alright, my dear. It's normal." she replied, patting his chest assuringly.

Raoul went near his sleeping son, staring at the small details of his face. His black hair had already thickened perfectly, bringing a glossy texture within the strands. His lashes were long and spidery and his lips were thin and pink. "He had your lips, Christine." he remarked, with a smile.

"Yes, I'm glad he had managed to inherit some of mine." 

He continued, while caressing his smooth forearm. The more he looked at him, the more he realized something. "The Phantom. He had a left, perfect face. It was almost like looking at an another mask."

"What do you mean?"

"When I first saw him at the cemetery, he was like any other man. Normal, evil, kind and dangerous. But the white mask on the right, it was an extension of the other."

"The more I think about it, maybe the perfect face was the mask he would confidently show to the people, pretending he was one of them. The face he was trying to show to feel powerful and fake. We have our own masks, Christine. My mother had said that to me once. The masks were the things we show in order to belong and pretend to be happy."

"But without his porcelain mask, I saw how horrid he looked like, completely ignoring the fact that his left face was still there. You see, my love, we can fathom to see the mask of every person in the world, but once it was off, not even the kindness in their hearts will be seen. It was all ugly... but it was the true you."

"Oh, Raoul..." she went behind him and embraced his waist firmly. 

"I am the Vicomte De Chagny. This handsome face you see, it was my mask. It was what people would want to see. But you had seen it off, you had known I was just 'this' man. I had made the wrong choices before, all because I was trying to pretend that I am strong. Instead of a dignified royal, I am weak and soft. And it's okay! Because It was the real me and I know, whatever happens, you will accept this face."

"The Phantom was the same. The perfect face you saw, it was what he wanted to show. Power and Strength. But we both had seen it off, we had known that he was just a broken man begging for attention and love. And you had given him that. I was too angry enough to see it for the first time but I had understood, with your guidance."

"When did you become so philosophical?"

"I was always like this, it's just... I was afraid it would not fancy you."

"Oh, Raoul. You just made me want to love you more." she kissed him on his lips passionately, caressing his waist softly. He hummed approvingly as he lifted his hands to cup her cheeks. "I wish your mother was here to guide me too." she whispered and he chuckled.

"She would have loved you, Little Lotte. Because I do."

They both stood with each other, watching their little bundle of sunshine snoring softly. When Raoul had thought of those things, he saw the real face of his son. Innocent and blameless. Strong but beautiful. He just hoped that he won't hide himself from them when he grows up. He knew the struggle of hiding so no one will ever find you. Since his mother died, he had forged his own mask. To think he could be as strong as Philippe. But meeting Christine brought everything back. Now, he just wanted to be _him._

 _ **"Sleepy, little soldier, sleeping through the day and wakes with eyes as bright as the sky."**_ Raoul began to sing, caressing the soft cheek with one finger. _**"You bed is empty, sure it is what you need. But the day comes close, waiting for you to rise. Never mind the sleep, I will fly with my wings."**_

 _ **"Sleepy, little child, take me to your castle. Show me where the once little children play. And make me a little boy again. I am a man now, but I am here in your heart."**_ He looked at Christine, who was smiling widely. _**"Sleepy, little angel, how come you grow up so fast? Please slow down, for I am a man with frail legs. I won't reach you anymore, but please reach me back."**_

Gustave suddenly opened his eyes and smiled at the melody from Raoul's mouth. _**"Come for me and comfort me. A child with such kindness, pray for me and tell the angels to never forget me."**_

 _ **"I love you, come for me and I will kiss you good night. I am here, Gustave. So sleep and dream of us..."**_ Raoul finished his song, bringing snorting laughs from the child, making his heart flutter in delight.

"You sing, beautifully, my love." said Christine, hooking her arm around his elbow. He laid his head above her, savoring her sweet, morning scent. 

"Not as good as you. I miss your singing." he kissed her forehead.

"Soon, my dear. What's important right now for me is taking care of Gustave. I love him so much."

"So am I." they both held hands, kissed their child to sleep. "I can't believe he's already two. He's growing just too fast."

"Don't worry, we are both young still." she replied, pulling Raoul gently out with her to get back to their bedroom, to continue their unfinished tasks.

Raoul left Christine for a while to grab some snacks for the both of them. When he went downstairs, he saw the looming figures of five gentlemen in the parlor room. He noticed Philippe pacing around the room like a leader he was. They all noticed the young De Chagny behind them, staring with serious eyes.

"Am I needed here, Monsieur Le Comte?" Raoul asked, with a deep, stern voice. The gentlemen did not change their faces, instead stared the other way to Philippe. 

"No, Vicomte. This is a meeting with only the high council." the older brother replied, with a slight curve from his lips. Raoul nodded in silent relief, bowing to them formally.

"Well, then. I shall leave you to your businesses, Monsieurs. Good Day." He turned around and walked gracefully to the kitchen. Raoul would always hate having those men meeting with his brother in their house. He knew that these men were just like them, upperclassmen serving the french government loyally, but in such a strange way too. The same men he would often meet in galas and dinner parties. Their families were obligated on serving France, may it be by blood or soul. The De Chagny family was most recognized for such tradition.

He went back upstairs with the snacks without looking back to their guests from the parlor room. Somehow, he felt a pain from his right palm. He opened his hand and stared at the large scar etched upon the skin. Christine had noticed the same scar last few months ago and she asked with slight worry. He only told her he had a terrible accident. Yes, An intentional accident.

He laid the snacks on their side table near Christine, who was crocheting some scarfs for little Gustave. "Where's your red scarf?" he absently asked and she smiled.

"It's on my blue cloak. Such a beautiful memory." she replied, lifting her eyes to him. 

"It is. You would have bawled like a baby if I had not saved it from the sea." he chuckled when Christine slapped his shoulder jokingly. 

"I do not bawl, Monsieur Le Vicomte. But I would have gotten sad, true." 

"Hm, I know. You are such a strong and a dramatic woman. I admire you." he scooted near her, almost prepared to surprise her lips again.

"I admire you too, you funny man. Now help me out for a second and lift those yarns for me." she moved away, lying her back on the headboard. 

"As you wish, Madame." 

Raoul and Christine spent their morning weekend just chatting and stitching some baby scarfs until Henrietta's voice boomed suddenly in their room. "Raoul! Come quick! It's Father!" And the world had stopped.

* * *

**MAY 25 1885 PROVINS, FRANCE**

A knock stopped Erik from his playing. He fixed his hair and mask before he reached for the knob. The blooming, exotic face of Elena Van Harriette brightened his mood. "Good Morning! Playing again?" 

"Always." he replied with a small smile, feeling the smack kiss on his unmarred cheek. Elena went in the cabin and putting the new food supply on the table. "You do know that you don't have to do that?" he asked, with a raised brow. She only laughed.

"You do know that you always ask me that since the last year? Seriously, cut it out, Monsieur."

"I do not wish to hassle you with such tasks. I can take care of it myself." he talked back, leaning his body against the wall. 

"And yet, you forgot most times. I'm here to help you, you know that."

"Just because you are one of my closest friends doesn't mean I will always let you do a man's job." 

"Then what should I do?" she furrowed her brows and set her hands on her waist. Erik chuckled sweetly as he touched the loosened, curl hair and set it aside on her ear. 

"Be silent, my dear and stay with me." 

"Granted." she immediately answered back. She went in the kitchen to grab some food from the pantry and prepared the cooking utensils on the table. She took a glance at Erik playing once again on his newly bought pianoforte. He bought the piano with his earnings last Christmas, telling her it was his first Christmas gift for himself. Spending Christmas nights with him was beautiful. Even it would be just watching him winning the bourbon drinking or playing some music for his companions. Those were the blissful moments she would notice his sincerest smiles. 

She went back to cooking for their lunch until she remembered something from her mind, "Erik! Do you mind if you accompany us to the church again later?" He lifted his gaze from the keys and sighed softly.

"Yes, yes. Of course." he almost sounded unwilling but she did not mind. He had been accompanying her and the other Monsieurs to the church every Sunday since last year and she remembered how he did not like it the first time. _Those idols burn my soul, I did not like how they look at me._

_It's alright, Erik. They won't hurt you._

_That old man, he's kind. I think._ He once said, while staring at Father Nelson during the homily. The old priest had always have the nicest face you rarely see in a town. Erik told her he was mostly attending confessions with him and he would often feel comfortable telling him everything. She smiled at the thought. The priest had been her savior since her childhood. He was equal and kind to everyone, and he was compassionate.

"What are you cooking again?" he asked, jolting her out of her trance. He chuckled when she crumpled her face in annoyance.

"Please stop scaring me like that, Erik!" she jokingly answered, waving the wooden spoon on him. "I'm cooking Coq au vin. It will taste good, I assure you." He left without saying a word and sitting back on his piano bench. _What an insufferable man!_ Elena felt sweet Horatio brushing himself on her feet. She squatted for a moment to pat his head gently. "Good boy." 

For three years, they started with simple touching, like him holding her hand or kissing it. It was almost sweet and savoring. The second year she started to encourage him on teasing or commenting remarks that were quite improper for a woman to say but she was glad Erik was open enough to talk back and since then, they had been closer than before. She was his best friend as he was to hers. Her often visitations had brought enough gossip for the hags but she did not mind at all, and neither was Erik. She was happy for such a victory. "Enough! I can't!"

She flinched when she heard him shout exasperatedly. She immediately went back to the living room to check on him. "What's wrong?"

"I can't hear the same music! I can't compose anything!" he yelled with extreme sadness, banging the piano with his strong hands. She stopped for a moment to give him some breathing time before she gently grabbed his shoulders and massaged them.

"Tell me." Like a mantra, she would ask for another story and he would be so honored to tell it back.

"Music has always been my life, Elena. It was my breath and my soul. Every time I would hear small sounds, it was music for me! But now, all is just silence. I'm beginning to regret spending my month wage for the piano." he replied, palming his face with frustration and anger. She remained her hands on his shoulders, easing his pain. If she could only help him, she absolutely would but she knew nothing of music. Nor was she raised in a household with it. 

"Erik, no. You are a good pianist. You play so beautifully every night and If I could watch you every time, I would. Sometimes the music in our hearts stop whenever something is wrong. Like a piano, if you heard its off tune, you just had to stand to do something to fix it." she said, with a smile playing on her lips. Erik rested his head behind on her tummy, feeling her strength.

"So... I'm still not fixed?" he asked, deeply. 

"It's yourself whom you should ask, dearest. If you feel that what you're doing is still not enough, you just had to do more. Remember, victory doesn't come when you had thrown the last shot, it would be when you had finally thrown it to the perfect spot." she let go of his shoulders and went back to the kitchen to continue her cooking. 

She was quite right. He had did and loved what he was doing for the past, three years. But it felt like he had not accomplished more or maybe, something else. It was always incomplete, and his song was blocked away. The woman beside him had helped him improve and learn of the world. He had loved her company and he had craved for it. It almost seemed enough but what was lacking still?

He had not forgotten Christine. For three years, she had still been writing to him, sometimes jotting down short music notes for the post script. She had updated him of her son. He was distraught when she once wrote to him about his conditions. He was suffering from an illness for a year and he had finally prayed to God he would be alright. Even if he had not seen the boy yet nor he was a De Chagny, all of it did not matter to him anymore. He was Christine's and he had fallen in love. He once realized he had been absently visualizing the child's face through his mind and sketching him beautifully. He posted some of them on the parlor walls and Elena did not mind at all. She was greatly fond of his skill.

Another thing was his newly found devotion for the church. He was still continuing his weekly confessions and learned to attend mass with Elena and Charles' support. He did not pray much, only if needed at all. He was still clueless of the catholic beliefs and was still not motivated to learn of it more. 

Her giddy footsteps snapped him out of his trance, smelling the aroma of the newly cooked food. "Bon Appétit!" she said as she set down the food on their table. Erik sat immediately, fixing himself on his seat while waiting for Elena to sit beside his left side. He could finally eat peacefully with her.

Somehow, may it be strange and stupid, Elena had found her way to be able to eat with him. She would always sit on his left side, facing his unmarred face. Erik would set the mask loosely a bit up on the lower cheek, being able to have some space for his mouth to chew properly. But still, she had seen the slight, bloated curve of his right lip but she tried her best to ignore it. She so badly wanted to see her love fully but she had to respect his choice for now. At least she was honored enough to be shown with a little hint.

They ate silently, except for the mild sound of chewing from the both of them. She would sometimes, funnily choke in her throat and Erik would slap her back until she stops. Their little chats were the most enjoyable for her, and Elena was nothing but grateful and happy for her closest friend and hopefully, someone she could call a lover.

"You cook really great, Elena. Maybe you should change jobs. I'm still encouraging you to join us. Leave that place." he said, with a face of concern.

"If I leave, I will have nowhere else to go." she replied, gazing her half eaten food seriously. It was true. The Madame had always provided her everything, shelter, food and a life. But in exchange of them was her body. It had been her life for God knows how long and it was as though she did not mind anymore. But she had always this urge to escape her home and prison. No matter how she lived, it was horrifying. To be used such a mindless way, it was painful and dirty. 

But if anything, she would like to consider his offer. "But I will think about it."

"You said that like a year ago already."

"No, I mean. Please... I will try to fix myself for now before I step up. Will you help me?" she lifted her gaze upon him and she was elated that he smiled. 

"If it will please you." 

They both finished eating and Erik hurriedly went upstairs to change and fix himself for the church. He wore a black tailcoat buttoned up to his chest and brown fitted pants tucked in through his riding boots.. He grabbed the long, thick jacket from the bed and swiftly wore it with ease. He never want to see himself through a mirror but he sure looked dashing enough for a church visit. The spring felt a little cooler for him and the church always made him feel exposed. Wearing heavy clothing was enough for him to hide simply. "Hurry up, Erik! We're late!" the lady yelled from downstairs. Erik only grumbled.

He went down with a cane on his right hand. Elena smiled at his dashing beauty. "Just a church, Erik."

Erik chuckled jokingly. "Just a church." He lifted his elbow, gesturing for her to hook on. Elena jumpily accepted the arm and walked together under the spring lights.

 _ **"Saints of France in which our history, has its days of finest glory, In misfortune and danger, you will know well to protect us."**_ Erik sang along with the other church guests and the orchestra, taking in some inspiration that might wake the music within him up. He stared at Elena singing along with him with a smile. This woman never failed to fascinate him. He felt a slight tightening on his arm.

 _ **"France, which rises, God blessed the clear morning. By Clotilde and Genevieve, Saint Remi and Saint Martin."**_ Erik averted his gaze to the smiling old priest on the altar. The same old man who chatted with him last night for a confession. The man who always called him young Gabriel. The man stared at him and nodded with acceptance as though he knew his face despite the crossed wires inside their confession box.

 _ **"Of old Franks, deep faith. Of the church is the support, and St. Louis shows to this world, the ideal of the Christian king."**_ Erik roamed his eyes around the church, staring at some people with mild curiosity. Even with the singing going on, he would notice several people gossiping and chuckling within their own worlds and children would run around the aisles. Charles and Marius sat in front of him, tickling each other mindlessly. Sometimes, Erik would just wish he could do whatever he wanted like them, with the same ease and freedom. But he had to remind himself that breaking his walls too much would cause him the same pain as always. These people might never see him through his lies and for him, that was enough.

But if the lady's presence on his arm would not falter, he would have to tell her the truth soon, in due time. If she chose to stay and love him, blindly still. "Thirsty? I have water." Elena asked when she noticed Erik staring at her for too long. She had always loved the sudden moments of his long stares. For a normal person, it was quite awkward to witness.

"I-I, yes. Please. Thank you." he replied, stuttering, which earned chuckles from the both of them. He drank the water rapidly and she thought she saw his throat bobbled quickly. He brought the empty bottle on their seat and roamed his eyes back to the audience. 

Erik brought his eyes to the small orchestra in the front and noticed the pianist playing passionately on the stage, with his eyes closed and his lips singing faintly. It was a young man with curly, dark brown hair and with sandy colored skin. His fingers softly clicked on every key and his body was swaying along with the melody. Somehow, Erik saw himself through him. It was as if the boy's voice was the only sound he could hear.

He poked Elena's shoulder and led out a small finger to the pianist's direction. "Do you know who he is?" he asked with widened eyes. Elena tilted her head slightly to see the young man on the altar.

"That's the town Baron's only child. I forgot his name because he was not often out of their residence. We only see him every church day." She replied. She noticed Erik eased and smiled blindly. She was confused of his curiosity to the boy.

The church finished the mass happily, with people shaking the priest's hand gratefully. Elena was getting ready to leave until she noticed Erik still standing in the middle of the nave. "Erik? Are you going?"

He faced her behind and smiled assuringly, "You go on, my dear. I'll catch up with you later." he said, as he walked towards the direction of the altar. She nodded only in surrender and left back to the spring town.

Father Nelson was arranging his things back to his room when he noticed the same, looming figure approaching the orchestra side of the altar. He diverted his gaze as the man stood beside the occupied piano, wanting to see what he would do.

"You play beautifully, Monsieur." a dark, soft voice sounded behind the young man from below the elevated stage. He looked nervously at him and scratched his head in uncertainty of the new guest. "Thank you, sir. It's the first time someone complimented me with my playing."

"Obviously not a lot of people here appreciate the music. But I do." Erik replied, seeing the young man stand with a surprising hint of elegance. The young man was wearing a upperclassman's clothing and he felt a slight pang of jealousy when he stared at him with his dark, blue eyes. Somehow, he kind of reminded him of the _boy._ But he brushed the thought aside. He had nothing but goodwill right now.

"Pardon me for my rudeness, young Monsieur. I'm Erik Daae." he said, hesitatingly, lifting a hand to shake another. He felt he was, somehow, back from the past. When he would offer a hand and people would slap it away because he was less of a man. He sighed gratefully when the boy led out his white pearls and shook his hand tightly. "There's nothing to pardon, Monsieur Daae. I'm Maximillian Laurent. But you can call me Laurent."

"Well, Monsieur Laurent. It seemed you have a talent for singing too. I heard you from our back seats." he replied, with a small smile. Laurent only chuckled in embarrassment. 

"I did not know you had a good ear. My voice would usually just blend along with the choir. It was nothing but usual."

"Would you mind singing for me? If it's alright with you, of course." Erik asked, already swaying his jacket away from his shoulders and sat on the piano bench. Laurent was quite intrigued of the masked man's presence. As gossip would always say around, they spoke of him from Monsieur Michel's business and how he was the top pianist in town. What was more strange was the mask on the right side of his face. They said it was a horrible accident, but something was much more behind it, he thought. With that, he walked in front of him and sang.

 _ **"What unknown emotion now fills me? I feel that my whole being is in the grip of love. O Marguerite, here I am your feet!"**_ Erik lifted his gaze at him, surprising him with an aria from Faust. His fingers clicked down the right keys while he followed every melody from his voice. A new voice that would finally wake him up. 

_**"Hail, chaste and pure dwelling where, One can feel the presence of an innocent and holy soul."**_ Laurent observed Erik with great impression. He played much more wonderfully than him and it sounded as though he spent his years playing music. _A man of song, indeed._

 **"What wealth in this very poverty! What bliss in this humble cottage! O Nature, this is where you created her beauty!"** To Laurent's shock, Erik sang along, with much power than his timid, strong voice. It was as though he was being pulled apart and a new sensation began to entangle around his soul. He had never heard someone sang so godly. With the sudden enthusiasm, he sang back.

 _ **"This is where the maid grew up beneath your wing, Grew up under your gaze! Here, too, breathing into her soul, You lovingly turned this angel of heaven into a fresh blooming woman."**_ Smiling at each other, both of them found each other's company comfortably and with sure acceptance. Laurent might seem to be still quite suspicious with the mask, but his eyes was enough for him to assure that he had found a new friend of music. The brown eyes of the stranger lightened at his voice, which made him smile shyly. 

_**"This is the place ... yes ... here it is! Hail, chaste and pure dwelling!"**_ They stopped the melody to end and their eyes stared at each other for a moment.

The old priest felt he was being pulled by the saints from the heavens with their beautiful voices. He thought the angels Gabriel and Michael came to visit him to lead him to a life of comfort and innocence. When their voices stopped with an abrupt silence, he had been snapped out of his trance. He found himself opening his eyes back to reality and saw the two figures standing at each other with grace.

He smiled when he heard Gabriel spoke, "Monsieur Laurent. By music, let me help you soar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry It took so long for me to update. Truthfully, I was kinda busy of work last week and starting this weekend, I'll be able to write more coz I am finally finished with my job lol. Also I've been doing a lot of Phantom art content on my instagram. Feel free to check some too @peytpulley. I wanna thank you guys for patiently waiting and of course for supporting my shameless fic!
> 
> Another new character to include on the list to know more in the next chapters because you still had like 80 chapters to expect. Anyways, meet Max Laurent, the new kid in town! Also I would like to explain Raoul's characterization here. I want him to be the perfect guy for Christine's life (not that usual dickhead Raoul every "POTO anti Raoul fic" or LND Raoul, ew.) but also I want him to be the "beast" (Hadley??) That's what actually makes him human. Just because he's rich doesn't mean he's the kind one. He would always be angry whenever needed and gentle because he is. I want him to, at least, be a better option for Christine just like everyone thinks Erik was the right option too. So yeah! Keep it coming!
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone and more chappies soon! Ciao!


	21. The Angel of Music

**A Voice From Above**

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**AUGUST 5 1885 PARIS, FRANCE**

Philippe De Changy walked through the door of their home, finding it silent and estranged. His whole body slightly trembled in fear and anxiety. Just a few weeks ago, he was declared by law, the Comte and the Master of the De Chagny bloodline. His father, late Comte Michel De Chagny, died in silence and with pride for his sons and daughters. But Philippe was not sure it was pride, after all. It was not just the estate and the gold he was bestowed upon. He had finally stepped up to become the commander himself. It was a job so much heavy for one person to carry. He needed help, he needed assurance. Travelling to Italy with Raoul made no consolation but it proved a plan. As Italy would boast about their hidden treasures, monks are one of them. But they are all dead. 

Atleast there's one survived, and he had proved them right. He stared at the sleeping babe on the small crib of the nursery and felt the clutched little hand around his pinky finger. Gustave De Chagny did not look... like a De Chagny at all. According to the doctor, he was more of a Daae. Brown eyes and black hair. But Philippe did not mind. If the man had said was true, then the boy must be protected.

The two year old baby cooed, showing a sign of alertness at his new guest. His pink lips smiled in response to Philippe's small tickling on his tummy. "Good boy." he whispered, putting a small clover beside his cheek. He removed his hat gently and left the nursery in silence.

"Here we are, my dearest. Here's the piano!" the baby snorted in delight, making short chuckles that made Christine giggle. She sat him on the baby chair and tucked him nearest to the bench. Christine opened the lid and began pressing random keys which silenced Gustave in focus. She looked at him with fascination and continued pressing the keys to form a melody. 

A little, few minutes, Christine heard her son laugh in melody, startling her. As though she heard that kind of tune before. The baby's face reddened in satisfaction and wiggled his small arms, telling her to continue playing for him. _Of course._ Just like how his father loved music, his son would feel the same thing. Christine was having the time of her life, making her bundle of sunshine laugh and snort loudly in the music room.

 _**"Little, little cat walking on the street, little, little, and boop, boop."**_ Christine sang along, booping her son's pink nose which sent him into a fit of giggles. _**"Kitty with an orange fur and a pink nose, rubbing along on my feet."**_

 _ **"Kitty, kitty with a boop, boop. Kitty with blue eyes and a big heart."**_ Christine let go of the keys and faced a wiggling Gustave on the baby chair. Her heart fluttered at the sight of beauty and innocence. The same, brown eyes that once captivated her heart had lightened up her life. She could hardly believe that Gustave would eventually gain the power of it to drive her near further. She kissed her son on the tummy, making a raspberry. She laughed when she heard him giggle again. _**"Fat, little kitty, boop and rub on my leg. Little, orange kitty rubbed his tummy and he's hungry."**_

_**"Orange kitty cat, boop and hop he goes. Brown crackers on her bowl and a rub on the head are enough. Pretty, little kitty, he wants a boop."** _

"Mama?" she heard him say, widening his brown eyes in curiosity when she stopped singing. She embraced her son in longing and love, smelling the honey scent from his baby shampoo. Gustave kept on calling her _mama_ when he almost felt she was whimpering on his little shoulder. She diverted her gaze to the parchment paper on the desk, with a half finished letter written with ink. She missed her angel. Erik, who had been the most broken but yet the most patient man she had ever met, had given her his final gift. They both might not know it yet but she was nothing but grateful for him and Gustave. It might had been from a lie and a betrayal but it was a sin she had to suffer alone. She did not want this to be brought upon her son, her husband and her teacher. It was her choice, that both would give her joy and ruin. 

But right now, her son was much more important than her life. _**"Look above the skies and see the light, my little angel. There awaits, a beautiful creature whom I loved once."**_ Gustave responded with a toothless smile again, satisfied with just hearing his mother's voice. 

_**"I will sing to you, about an angel of music, singing songs in my head. He will guide you through music, he will love you from afar."** _

_**"Whenever you feel sad, he will sing and wipe your tears. Whenever you feel happy, he will sing you songs of joy."**_ Christine carried Gustave on her arms as she slowly approached the opened window and gazed at the far away view of the city. The wind blew gently on their faces, soothing them. _**"He said, Come child, for you are weary. Come child, and I will sing a lullaby to sleep."**_

 _ **"Angel, I hear you and I listen and he says, Come and I will hear your cries."**_ She sang and she flinched when she felt her cheek wet with a tear. _If Erik could hear, oh how I wish he could._ _ **"Hear your child, angel and wipe my tears now. Sing to me and I am free."**_

Christine heard Gustave coo in melody, as though he knew what she was singing about, _**"The skies are beautiful with your beauty. Angel, here we are. Hear us and we are free."**_

_**"Receive this kind, little angel on my arms. Sing to him as you had sang once for me. Let him listen to your song and listen to his cries."** _

_**"Angel of music, I am here now! Turning to your beauty. Angel of music... We are here and we are finally free..."** _

Christine snapped out of her trance when she heard her son cry in desperation, wanting her to sing again. She chuckled only and kissed his smooth, little head. "When you grow up, I will tell you more about the angel of music. For now, let us get you fed."

"Another ambush and our victory. Their plan of siege is truly approaching." a man with a tall and bitter look spoke at the right side of Philippe's table. The Comte only hummed and continued flipping the papers in silent. The man only sneered. "Don't tell me you are still going on with that insane man's statement." Philippe sighed deeply and closed the folder in annoyance.

"Yes, I am. And what's wrong with it?" he asked with a same sneer, his blue eyes shone in anger. 

"Those men from Italy are either crazy or fake. This is a manner of reality, not some fantasy or some random seizure!"

"You sounded like my father and he's dead. If I turn out to be right, your loss. I lead this army now and you will abide every command I say." The deep, venomous sound of the Comte's voice boomed around the walls of their meeting room, making the people silent. "General Vinecourt, I suggest you clear your head and get some air outside."

The General only slumped his shoulders and bowed stiffly, "Yes, Monsieur Le Comte." he headed outside along with two of his comrades. Raoul stood on the left, staring at the now, closed door. He sat on the nearby chair and diverted his gaze at his brother. 

"This is getting dangerous, Philippe. Are you sure you can handle this?" he asked, with a look of concern from his eyes. 

"No, Raoul. I am merely trying to be strong so that these ungrateful, backbiting snakes would stop annoying me. And no, Raoul, if you may ask, I am afraid for our lives." replied Philippe, massaging the corners of his forehead. Raoul had never saw his brother worry and slump once before. As his little brother, he looked at him with pride and fascination. When he was still a child, he thought of him like a great model of becoming a strong man. But like any other person, he was tired.

"I am here, Philippe. You can use me." he said, slightly regretting the words he used. He just wanted to know that Philippe could depend on him. He saw his brother smile gratefully and sighed in relief.

"Are you sure that the surete found the body of the Phantom of the Opera?" he asked out of the blue, which made Raoul flinch in fear and alarm. It was a long time ever since Philippe asked about the Opera Ghost.

"Y-Yes. I mean, they found him two years ago from the sewers." replied Raoul, staring at the trembling hands on his side.

"Was it the right body?"

"I don't know, Philippe. The face was bloated and the whole body was rotten in moist."

"Then that doesn't mean he was dead, Raoul. The Opera Ghost, as you say, is not so of a coward to just die from the sewers. I also believed that he used to live there." Raoul stood abruptly from his seat and approached Philippe slowly in intrigue.

"What's so curious about a dead criminal, Philippe? What do you want from him?" he asked with a squinted eye when he noticed the corner of his lips, curving.

"My father once had a contact from Persia. Saying something about a dark magician who once performed for the Shah. It was quite... intriguing, as I always read the books. It was almost, I think, fifteen years ago when it was reported. The said man had escaped the chains from a barbaric country and he was not seen since then." 

Raoul thought of the story, almost connecting it with Madame Giry's story about the Ghost. It was similar yet, much darker coming from Philippe's mouth. "What did he look like?"

"Tall, black figure, once donned a full, black mask with golden carvings, showtelling him to be the most, powerful man in Persia, next to the Shah. With a face as ugly as the devil and with a voice as beautiful as an angel. He used to perform several tricks for the royal family to punish the traitors and criminals against them. Just magic tricks and architecture. As I had read, the hall of mirrors."

 _He once built for the Shah of Persia, a maze of mirrors. A freak of nature, more monster than man. The world had forgotten him._ _ **"I never can..."**_ Raoul sang a whisper under his breath, finally had proven the thought and connection in his mind. So it was true. But what does it have to do now?

"Who was he, brother?" he looked at the darkened gaze of Philippe. He felt the urge to whimper when he smiled.

"They call him the Angel of Death."

"What do you want with the Opera Ghost, Philippe?" he asked, feeling the scar on his palm.

"I want him alive, Raoul. And I want him real."

Raoul went out of the office while holding the scarred palm tightly. All of those nightmares, those bad memories slowly coming back to him. Christine, him and the Phantom in that dark, cold place. Their kiss and the rope around his neck. _Gustave..._ It was like pulling the corpse from the grave once again. Philippe's plan on finding the Phantom was too much. It was just plain stupid. Asking for the man to kill for someone again. The man had enough, this was enough. Raoul could not bear telling this to Christine, it would sure frighten and anger her. She wanted his memory to live and to die, normally and peacefully. He wanted to, too. For her and Gustave.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, grabbing hold of his hair frustratingly. He hailed a cab back home with a frowned face. Oh, he did not like this at all.

"Raoul! So glad you're back!" a smiling, beautiful goddess welcomed him from the parlor room. His dark, frowned face immediately melted away as he embraced her back. "So glad you did not miss dinner."

"Well, aren't we in a good mood right now?" he asked, tickling her thin waist jokingly. She slapped his shoulder and pulled him to the dining room. His face fell when he saw that the table was occupied only by a smiling Gustave on the right side. It seemed like it was just the three of them tonight. But he shrugged the thought away.

"I'm sorry it was just us. Philippe left few minutes after you awhile ago. Henrietta went out to visit some friends. It was just me and this little cherub here." she replied in sympathy, pulling him gently to sit on his chair.

"It's alright, I'm used to this. How's Gustave?" he asked as he kissed the top of his son's head and formed a raspberry on his tummy, sending him into a fit of laughter.

"He's been pretty joyful this morning. Fortunately, his skin did not ruin the day. The doctor's right, it was healing gradually for now." replied Christine as she sat beside the baby to feed him.

"I'm glad. What about you, my dear, how are you?" he asked with a gentle pat on her flat hand on the table. She giggled back, "I sang to our son and you can't imagine how he loudly snorted along the melody. It was just so contagious!"

"I'm actually imagining him and your father laughing together, now that's a chaos I wanted to see!" they both laughed and Gustave's snorting laugh made it worse.

"Oh dear Lord, please someone stop this torture!" Raoul remarked, jokingly pointing at Gustave's toothless smile. Christine's face reddened happily.

"Oh, Raoul, please. Just let our child laugh whenever he wants." she chuckled in rest, and kissed her husband's cheek sweetly. But she slightly noticed his face change in solemn.

"I don't want him to grow up yet. Time's becoming so fast." he said as he stared at the baby's innocent, brown eyes. Christine sighed in approval.

"Me too. We both love him so much, Raoul." 

"But he still does not call me _Papa_ or _Daddy_ yet." he smiled, with a childish pang of envy.

"He will soon. You'll see." they remained silent and ate their dinner with stolen chuckles. Not until they heard the little flower bloom so soon...

_**"Dada..."** _

* * *

**OCTOBER 25 1885 PROVINS, FRANCE**

_**"Guardando dietro a sparafucile...Pari Siamo!"**_ Laurent's voice abruptly stopped when Erik tongue clicked for him to stop. He stood from the piano and rested his hands on his tense shoulders.

"Remember, your shoulders would pressure you. Making it harder for you to express your voice louder. Relax." he softly said, making Laurent calm along his tone. The masked maestro's voice was like a drug to any ordinary man. Must have been the reason why some people in town were fond of him. 

"Sorry. My governess would often tell me to raise my body with pride and masculinity. A habit, I think." he scratched the back of his head with embarrassment. Laurent lifted his head when he heard Erik chuckle back.

"I won't judge you. Although if you are willing to practice, let us shrug "pride and masculinity" for a moment. You have to be flexible and calm." he replied, easing away his hands from his shoulders. He signaled him to repeat the first verse as he sat back on the piano bench.

 _ **"O uo uomini! o natura! Vil scellerato mi faceste voi!… O rabbia! esser difforme, esser buffone! Non dover, non poter altro che ridere! Il retaggio d'ogni uom m'è tolto … il pianto!"**_ The young man's eyes kept their direction toward the looming figure of Monsieur Erik Daae. A few weeks since they had first started, he was quite skeptical of the man. Not because he was afraid of the mask or what lied beneath it but because he was never a socialite to strangers nor even the townsmen. He was only to play the piano for the church every Sundays and he would go back home immediately and proceed to learn Russian class. But his schedule began to gradually change, finding ways to meet with him every other day. 

He started with skipping dancing class, using random reasons like his knees hurt or his head too. He would bribe their steward not to reveal his whereabouts and run to the summer cabin within the autumn woods of Provins. Usually, he would be welcomed with a smile or a frown, but Monsieur Erik was a good, patient man and he had immediately earned Laurent's trust and respect. Maybe because he had not learned much of who to trust.

Their singing lessons brought him great joy and satisfaction. God knows how much he wanted to sing, it had always been his passion. Somehow, he had finally felt he had a purpose in music. And the man beside him was helping him find it. _**"Questo padrone mio, Giovin, giocondo, sì possente, bello, Sonnecchiando mi dice: Fa' ch'io rida, buffone!"**_

 _ **"Forzarmi deggio e farlo! Oh dannazione!... Odio a voi, cortigiani schernitori! Quanta in mordervi ho gioia! Se iniquo son, per cagion vostra è solo… Ma in altr'uomo qui mi cangio..."**_ Laurent realized that he had improved his voice quite quickly when Erik started teaching him. It was almost a miracle. As far as he could remember, he was only subject to humming and singing in the bathroom. But today was almost making him feel comfortable and relieved. Relieved that he had found a teacher like Erik.

 **" _Quel vecchio maledivami!…Tal pensiero Perché conturba ognor la mente mia? Mi coglierà sventura?... Ah no, è follia! Apre con chiave ed entra nel cortile. Gilda esce dalla casa e si getta nelle sue braccia. Figlia!"_** They both finished Rigoletto with a clap and laugh. Erik guided him to sit on the parlor and have tea with him. 

"I know it's been just a few months but your voice, I admit, had improved more than I had expected." remarked Erik, sipping from his tea. Laurent only chuckled in reply and smiled gratefully at him. 

"It's because I had a great teacher." 

"Oh, now. It's not just me. What's important is you, Laurent. You have this talent and passion but here you are keeping it by yourself. Your voice could bring the world at its feet. Marvelous!" Erik swayed his hands excitingly. 

"So are you, Monsieur Erik! I mean, I am not sugarcoating, you have a voice of an angel. A real angel, perhaps." With his reply, he noticed the right side of his face fell into solemnity. He almost regretted saying something but he scooted near him instead.

"Did I say something wrong?" asked Laurent, jolting Erik from his seat and shook his head immediately.

"N-No, my dear boy. No. I am actually grateful for your compliment. I, mostly, get that impression." he faked a smile to assure Laurent but the bitterness within his voice alarmed him more. He was curious.

"But?" he offered Erik an open door to add more facts about himself but it was as though he was afraid of telling too much.

"They said my voice was too much beautiful to hear, indeed. Almost as though it was an angel. An angel who once seduced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit." Laurent could not understand the metaphor but Erik only patted his arm gently. "With my face, It was almost impossible to believe. People would often get scared of me, thinking the devil cursed me with such a voice to ruin men. But I swear, I do not want to do so. I merely wanted to teach you and encourage you as long as I can. Nothing more, unless you want something above that."

Laurent finally nodded in understanding. The mask and his face. He would, sometimes, hint about it being grotesque nor unpleasant. Erik was not a person to hide anything, he was trying to be as straightforward as possible, giving a person some enlightenment if he would want to be associated more with him. But Laurent was taught to be loyal to a friend. And he was going to stay. "I understand but... I guess that's what makes people blind and stupid." he sneered, which startled Erik.

"What do you mean?"

"My father would often tell people that they're useless or stupid. He was as straightforward as you are but in a... different way. Now I'm beginning to actually get him. People just don't see what's really good and bad anymore. If they just feel to like it then that's that. If they don't, here comes judgement next." Laurent smiled, patting the hand on his arm in comfort. Erik almost led out a whimper when he saw the sincerity of the boy. 

"Let us not mind the business of other men. For now, rest your voice for a little while. I will cook us lunch!" Erik rubbed the curls from the boy's hair as he left the parlor and went straight to the kitchen. 

Laurent realized Erik had always been this nice to him because he was one of the few people who was only kind to him, either. He would never know the pain of being judged nor disgusted because of a facial mistake but he certainly knew how to sympathize or give space, at least. He was a quiet, timid young man and he preferred that quality still, but learning music with the masked man taught him something.

You never actually really know who to trust unless you know that he trusted you first. Erik was, at the first time, was as estranged as him but the man was obviously trying so hard to be closer to him and little by little, break the walls between them. Laurent appreciated that. 

He stood from his seat and began to pace around the parlor. The desk at the corner of the room was filled with sketches and notes, which Laurent would often see everyday. He grabbed a few papers and began to organize them properly. If there was one thing Laurent hated, it was an unorganized desk. Erik went back to notice him staring at one of his late night sketches. "May I ask who is this?" asked Laurent.

"That's... A friend's newborn son. She sent me letters about the growth of her baby. I tried sketching him to imagine what he looks like." replied Erik, sighed faintly. Laurent only smiled.

"Adorable baby. Is it just me or does he look a bit like you?" As Laurent remarked, Erik laughed out loud. 

"Me? No, my boy. He sure is an adorable, pretty baby but not me!" Erik replied and went back to the kitchen to check up on his cooking. Laurent shook his head in surrender as he set down the sketch inside the drawer. He sat on the desk seat to try to read one of Erik's compositions. He was truly fascinated with the notes used, it was majestic and a bit, deviant. If Laurent would sing this, his father would ground him for a month. But he was nothing but captivated with the beauty of his music. Why on earth was he not popular yet?

Laurent felt the urge to go to the toilet and set down the papers back on the desk. He walked slowly towards the bathroom and noticed the door half closed. He heard water flowing from the inside and noticed that Erik was using it first. But the sudden, gnawing curiosity hit the young man regretfully. He continued walking, trying to avoid a sound and took a peak from the door. 

There he saw, the flesh colored mask set down on the lavatory while the horrid, disfigured face of his maestro was facing towards his gaze. He stopped the incoming gasp from his mouth and stared at him for a few moments. Erik was washing his face with no mirror in front of him, the right side was reddened with marks from the mask and he was soothing it with cold water.

The cheek was stretched and crumpled which led the right corner of his lips bloated. He was in loss of a right eyebrow but the shape of his eye was normal. Laurent was shocked with the scar on his head, it was as though he was missing of an outer skin which would cover the top instead. All this things that he had saw was horrifying indeed for a normal person to see. He would have felt like vomiting at the ugly sight.

But Laurent remained sitting back on the dining chair, staring blindly at the wall. "Here we are!" Erik said as he put the tray on the table with a wide smile on the face. Laurent lifted his gaze at him and sat properly. The food almost tried to distract him from the sight he had seen but Laurent remained still.

"Is there something wrong, my dear boy?" Erik noticed the stillness of his pupil on his seat and began to worry. He felt his hand tremble nervously. The boy stared back at him, with his blue, innocent eyes, as though he was staring at a mirror. 

"Erik... You have given me so much of what I had asked for. I told you first that I only wanted to improve my voice." Laurent spoke as he set his elbows on the table.

"But you have taught me more than just my voice."

Erik squinted an eye slightly, "Really? What have I taught you more?"

Laurent took a moment to pause and breathe, which made Erik clutch on his waistcoat tightly. If the boy would ask him to stop and let him go, he would oblige immediately. Erik knew he was wary, with the mask and all. But Erik also knew, that he would be afraid to know that the boy that he had grown to care for was scared with him all this time. He could not take that. He wanted him to know that he did not mean any harm to anyone. He wanted him to know that whatever what was beneath the mask was just a man with a twisted, broken life trying to fix everything he had wrongfully done. He waited and he sighed.

"You taught me that whatever things anyone had done wrong, there was always a drop of kindness in their hearts. That whatever scar you had, the heart is still the most important thing that is whole and full. I know that you are bothered of what I would react about the mask and about all things that you try to frequently mention to me. But none of that matters to me. I wanted to learn music and believe it or not, I hope you would continue teaching me until you had enough of me."

Both of them laughed, sighing breaths of relief as they realized something from each other. The mask did not matter. The class did not matter. Nothing mattered except the music and their friendship. Erik felt the satisfaction of being wanted and being needed. Erik patted Laurent on the back and replied several thanks to him. Laurent did not falter, did not look away and did not disgust.

For a boy as young and intelligent as him, he did not need to waste time to be a coward of a man with a deformed face. For a boy as kind and wholehearted as him, he did not need to ruin a man's life because of what he had seen. They were both men, and nothing more.

Laurent walked towards his bedroom and immediately lied down in satisfaction. He promised Erik that he would eat dinner with him and his companions in the restaurant where he worked tomorrow night. It was almost amazing to be acquainted with a strange, majestic man such as Erik. He had never felt excited and happy. The growing inspiration and motivation lightened up his room as he jumped from the bed and began to read his music notes on his desk.

Baron Victor VIen Laurent noticed the smile from his son's lips when he saw him walking up the stairs towards his room. It was unusual to see him this giddy and for him, there was something wrong. The faint hums from Laurent kept him alarmed. A man with a dark mustache and grim green colored attire entered his office with civility. "You asked for me, Monsieur Le Baron?

"Yes, I did. I want you to look for holes about a man from town. My son often spends his time with him and I am quite troubled." The Baron replied, setting down a sketch on the desk. The stranger grabbed the parchment and stared at the drawing of his new prey.

"What's wrong about it?"

"My son kept on skipping days from his classes and some of our... social meetings. The man was surely distracting him from his responsibilities. Also, whatever he was hiding on his face must be a thrill to find out." The Baron grabbed the glass from his side and sipped the wine. 

"What is his name?" asked the man, with a small curve from his lips.

The door closed slowly behind the man's back as he walked away from the house with the paper in his pocket, and stared at the sunny view of the rural town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again and thanks all for reading the latest chapter! Sorry the updates goes a little bit late but I promise I will continue and finish this story as I intended. I mean there are a little more 70+ chapters to go HAHA!
> 
> I just realized how "too good to be true" this fic is but I actually wanted the first few chaps to be much more "lightload" coz I want y'all to be prepared for the mid to end chapters, it'll get crazier, swear!


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